


Coming Down

by doodnoice



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Evil guy acts like evil guy, Explicit Language, F/M, Female Reader, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Reader-Insert, Recreational Drug Use, Sadism, Sexual Content, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, more at 11, supernatural bullshit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:37:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11030673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doodnoice/pseuds/doodnoice
Summary: As a favor for your old college roommate, Dr. Flug, you agree to help him finish several projects while you're between jobs. However, due to your recreational habits and nonchalant attitude, dealing with your newly appointed boss, Black hat, becomes something of a chore in it of itself--especially when said demon becomes acquainted with your own "inner demon" who often taunts your boss, enjoying referring to himself as your "better half". High, possessed, and thoroughly unfazed by almost everything that occurs while you're temporarily employed as Flug's assistant, it's a surprise that you catch Black Hat's eye and seemingly more as he makes it his mission to find out what makes you tick.-Black Hat/Reader





	1. Wake and Bake

The phone call from Flug catches you at a bad time--Latimer releases a belly aching scream as he wrenches himself from your body, practically flinging himself to the other side of the room in his haste as he throws open a window and gasps dramatically. You sort of hope he jumps out of it--not that it would do much since he's a demon and all--instead, Latimer turns towards you, ignoring the patient one-fingered gesture you make towards him to _"be quiet"_ , and yells anyway, "You insolent parasite! Either accept my patronage, or else find a priest! I will not live connected to your filth and... devious self-impairment any longer!"

You roll your eyes and press the "accept call" button on your phone as you take another, deeper, bubbling rip from the bong you prepared earlier--one of your favorite parts of waking up; you'd place it somewhere between jerking off, and eating half-soggy cereal while watching Saturday morning cartoons.  _"Hello?"_ you hear your old friend warble through the connection, his voice so obviously nervous that you can practically see him fiddling with his shirt sleeve like he used to do when you had been roommates, _"It's... um, Flug-Doctor! Flug... now. Um..."_

Coughing a bit as you exhale the smoke from your lungs, you lean back against the couch with a relaxed smile--"Disgusting!" you hear Latimer grumble somewhere by the window, still skulking. You sigh happily, "Flug, my man! How's life been treating you?" and then, after taking a much more controlled hit, "Glad to hear you made something out of all those years you studied in college. Manage to take over the world, yet?"

A pleasant warmth falls over you, blanketing you comfortingly, almost numbing, even as Latimer, the jackass of a demon he is, approaches you and makes to tear your bong from your grasp, pinning you to the cushions as he slides between your legs. You dodge him and rest your phone between your shoulder and ear. Sending him a reproachful glare through the haze of your slowly budding high, you extend one hand out to push against his chest, effectively keeping his flailing a reasonable distance from your bong, while you do your best to ignore the way his humanized face shifts to crawling bugs and mangled flesh before back to his normalized face as his frustration mounts.

_"Hey, uh,"_ Flug stutters through the line, you hear something in the background crash and then Flug's self-censored curse-- _Shi-shirttail_ \--before he clears his throat and again addresses you, _"I haven't exactly, uh, done that, but... uh, where are you, right now? Are you doing anything, I mean? Work-wise, because... I-the last time we talked, you said you were unemployed, and I could really use your help--"_ over on his end, you can hear screaming, sizzling, and then a dark, roiling laugh. Something clatters, and you think Flug has dropped his phone, because you can just barely make out your friend's voice sounding a bit far away as he talks to whoever else entered the room.

The words aren't coming through clear enough for you to make an assumption on what they're talking about, but the volume of the other person gets louder, although his voice--you think it's a "he", but you can't be certain--is still made incoherent either because of the poor connection or the fact that this new person's gravelly voice has pitched down several octaves and may or may not be speaking a language you don't recognize. You hear Flug shout through the other person's indistinct monologue, some mumbling, a pause, and then what sounds like an intonation of agreement before finally the slam of what you can only assume is a door. 

A few moments of silence longer, and you're distracted enough that Latimer manages to snatch your bong from your hand and has pushed away from you in favor of rushing to the window--with you in tow--and dropping the thing out off the side where it shatters weed, glass, and bong water all over the empty sidewalk. With your phone still pressed to your ear, you push Latimer and mouth, _"What the actual fuck?"_ to which Latimer just grins that same stupid toothy, too-wide-to-be-human grin, and waltzes off to do whatever it is he does while he waits for you to sober up enough for him to want to possess you, again.

Over the connection, you hear the sound of Flug picking up the phone and sighing, his voice taut, but tired as he apologizes to you, _"I'm sorry about that... t-that was just... my, uh, boss. He's the reason I'm sitting here bothering you, actually. Really, I'm so sorry--"_

You shake your head, not liking the strain of his voice, worried that, similar to what sometimes occurred in college, he's on the verge of some kind of breakdown, "Hey, just breathe, Flug," you pause to wait for said man to take a full, stuttering breath, "and relax," an exhale, you smile, "that's it; it's all good, Flug." stepping away from the window, you walk into the kitchen and scramble through the drawers, searching for a pack of your emergency cigarettes, and tap one out. Taking the stick between your lips, you reach between the band of your underwear and pull out a stainless steel zippo that you flick open and use to light up.

_"Thanks,"_ Flug says softly, his voice somewhat more calm, but, as always, still terribly nervous.

Releasing a plume of vanilla scented smoke, you grin and flick your excess ashes out into the sink, before rinsing the residue down the drain, "No problem, man. So, you were saying something about helping you out, earlier? If it'll get that dick of a boss off your back, then I'm all for it, but I can't exactly spare too much time; I'm still between jobs, and rent's a bitch, but I'll try to help you with whatever I can." You take the cigarette between your lips and rummage through your cabinets to pull out a bag of blessed salt which you line the tiled edge of the kitchen with before leaning against the far counter with a smug smirk.

Flug clears his throat, _"O-oh, well, for what I'm asking you to help me with, I'm not going to let you do it for free,"_ he sounds both relieved and astonished at your quick agreement, but doesn't seem willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, _"I managed to talk with my boss, and he um... he agreed that he's willing to pay you, but he wants to meet you before you start. It's a-um... security issue, maybe? I don't know, but I just, he's a bit--"_

"Whoa, slow down there, Tex," you take a long drag just as Latimer walks back into the room, stopping dead in his tracks when he sees the burning cigarette between your fingers--"Are you kidding me?!"--and rushes towards you with vicious intent. He stops short as if running smack dead into a wall before looking down at the salt lines you drew. You grin and blow smoke rings at Latimer, "You haven't even told me what it is I'm supposed to be doing." you say, addressing Flug. 

While Flug sputters an  _"Oh, r-right"_ and tells you to _"hold on a second, please"_ , Latimer curses, and you smile, for the first time in a long time, a genuine, honest to god, smile. With the cigarette between your lips, you inhale more deeply this time, meeting Latimer's piercing yellow gaze rebelliously as he paces the space along the edge of the salt trail--his body morphing and broiling, tendrils unwittingly bursting through his back in disgusting masses with the effort to maintain his human front in the wake of his fury.

Briefly, you stub the end of the dying cigarette out on the counter--he hates that--and watch as he practically shrieks in wrathful agony. And then, you're slipping out another cigarette and popping the filtered end between your lips. When it lights up, Latimer is practically foaming at the mouth. You laugh, not fully understanding why you smoking or otherwise enjoying yourself bothers him so much, but damn if you don't love the sight of him so thoroughly pissed off.

_"Ah, here it is,"_ Flug says more to himself than to you, but the sound of his voice garners your attention away from the seething demon in front of you who has resigned himself to stomping away from the kitchen to somewhere down the hall towards your bedroom and bathroom. _What a drama queen._ Flug clears his throat,  _"I have a list of commissions and some technical notes from my company's clients that I want your help with. I'll send them to you along with the address of where you'll be working with me for the next few months--i-if you're sure you want to go through with this that is. It's no pressure, honestly."_

You grin reassuringly, even though Flug can't see it, and reflexively flick some ashes off your smoke, "As long as your boss isn't one of those touchy, weirdo types, and is willing to negotiate how much he's going to pay me, I'm all in, baby."

Flug lets out an uncomfortable laugh, _"Y-yeah, well, not exactly, but... he's--my boss is kind of... different. Just watch yourself around him--he's not 'touchy' or anything! Not in the way you're thinking, but, he can be a bit much sometimes--not that you'll see him a lot, because you'll be working with me mostly, but..."_

Curiously, you watch as Latimer walks out of the hallway with your hair dryer and a determined sneer. You frown, take another drag, and approach the demon, but not quite willing to cross the barrier, yet. He doesn't even so much as glance your way as he plugs the hairdryer in at the nearest socket, clicks the hair dryer on and then proceeds to blow the salt away at the lowest setting--figures he wouldn't know how to work a hair dryer, not that you'll be teaching him anytime soon. You give him a B- for creativity, though.

"Uh-huh," you mumble absentmindedly to Flug who is still explaining something or the other to you about whatever it was you had been talking about before, "Hmm," you say when Flug seems to get passionate about something, before he settles down. You nudge the salt granules back into place where the barrier threatens to break, to which Latimer growls before fiddling with the buttons. The hair dryer whirs to full on winds and pushes a large break in the salt barrier. Your eyes widen as the demon levels you with a triumphant smirk. You curse under your breath and stub your cigarette out, "I'm gonna have to call you back, Flug." Slowly, you step backwards as Latimer approaches, figure seeming to grow as the tentacles behind him flurry and flit about.

_"Ok, that's fine, just make sure to swing by sometime today so you can meet him. Also, call me before you walk through the gate, there's this-"_

You don't get to hear the rest as one of Latimer's tendrils snatches your wrist, knocking your phone out of your hand and sending it skittering across the floor while he moves closer to press against you, "You're testing my patience, human." he huffs, voice low in warning.

"I wouldn't say that," you reply, cheekily, not at all intimidated, just amused that Latimer is trying to scare you after so many years of failing to get even the tiniest jump from you, even when he's in his full 1980s "The Thing" form.

"I wish I could make this more painful than it already is, but, alas, find solace in knowing this, human: I will enjoy every ounce of discomfort our joining will bring you." Latimer snarls as one of his hands comes up to grip at your jaw and pull down while the other digs into your shoulder to keep you in place. He grins at seeing you so seemingly helpless, only to frown when he meets your eyes and sees not fear, but callous boredom.

"Can you just skip the foreplay and get inside of me, already? I got places to be, people to- _GHHURK!_ "

Your eyes water as Latimer reaches a hand through to the inside of your throat, latching onto your windpipe, and pulls himself inside of you. The burn of his form intermingling with your soul shoots pin pricks and spikes throughout your body, your muscles spasming, but otherwise, you can't say it feels any more uncomfortable than when you wake up a sleeping limb. Still, when it's over, you're lying on your face on the cold tiled floor and breathing heavy like you just ran a marathon. You can feel Latimer trying to smirk using your lips, but your self control always seems to supersede his, so you stand up, crack your neck and work your jaw to make sure that asshat didn't dislocate it.

"You're fine," Latimer assures you, "Well, that is if you ignore the ancient demon residing in your soul and corrupting your chances of making it to heaven with every moment you keep me confined within your body... then, yes, you are in perfect health." And then he's chuckling with the sort of maliciousness that only a fake friend can manage. You scoff, imaging that if he had attended human high school, he would have been the stereotypical cheerleading captain that pushed other kids into doing her homework for her.

Leaning down to pick up your phone, you make to see if Flug was still on the line, and pointedly ignore Latimer's continued teasing, since it's just him being pissy and wanting to get a rise out of you. Pressing the home button, you're happy to see that Flug had hung up and had, indeed, sent you several text messages including a few blurry pictures, one of which is a crudely drawn schematic of what looks to be a gun that shoots out goop, and another that looks to be a formula for creating reinforced, fake human skin. Instead of questioning any of it, because, honestly, Flug has always been the sort for the mad scientist schtick,--and it's not like you're any better, because from what you could make out from his pictures, everything he's working on is right down your alley--you scroll down some more to read the rest of his texts.

You flick open one written out message with directions to where he works and are surprised to find that it's not too far away from where you currently live; maybe a few miles west down the highway, but definitely a reasonable commute. In the text, Flug encourages you to meet with his boss, Black Hat--odd name, but, then again, you're possessed, so you can't really judge anything as being odd--and-

"Black Hat?" Latimer questions, his voice resonating through your skull, "...No, it can't be."

With a shrug, you make towards your front door, snagging a jacket and your keys before you pull on your sneakers and ask, "You know the guy?"

Latimer snorts, and in your mind's eye you can see him waving his hand all willy-nilly like, as if he doesn't care as he recites this so-called Black Hat's entire history before finishing with, "Know the guy? I've fought him!" As you lock the door to your apartment, you raise a brow, but don't say anything else--encouraging Latimer to continue while you walk to your car, get in, and proceed to drive to your destination, "He's an old world demon, but unlike a lot of those traditionalist types he found some sort of niche in the human world. They say a lot of the trouble your people's heroes go through is because of him. Not sure how he does it, but he's one of the most-- _ARGH!!_ "

Just as you're popping the cut end of a blunt into your mouth, Latimer rips himself out of your body and tumbles into your passenger seat, clutching his chest and vehemently pressing down on the button that rolls down your car window. You nearly swerve into the lane beside you, caught off guard by the demon's sudden exit, and in the process drop your blunt in the space between your seat and the cup holder beside it. "Fuck," you frown, looking between the road and the fallen joint while trying to reach for it, ignoring the honking of the car that speeds up beside you in an effort to cut you off--its driver raises a hand to flip you off only to pause and cower when he sees the panting, half-morphed monstrous demon leaning out of your side window and glaring with intent to kill.

Grabbing onto the blunt between your fingers, you let out a gleeful, _"A-ha!"_ , take it between your lips, and light it with a single flick of your zippo as you pass the fearful, staring driver and merge into the exiting lane. Pulling up to a red light, you take care in enjoying the blunt, breathing in lungfuls of smoke and smiling as that energizing, but somehow still calming feeling tries to edge back into to forefront of your mind.

"You're a revolting excuse for a human being," Latimer bites, awful, Lovecraftian face twisting in what could be inferred as disgust, but you're not quite sure what with the melty-eyeballs and folds of teeth and skin and hair in places you've come to try to make sense of as being his mouth.

You shrug, "Oral fixation," and don't notice the people on the streets or in other cars gaping at you and your demon possessor, because you're focused on the light as it turns green, and you make a very precise right before continuing down, bypassing the crowded downtown area to cut into the suburbs, just as Flug had instructed you.

You're halfway through your blunt when you start feeling the real effects of it; your muscles feel less tense, and your mind, overall, a bit more focused and alert than before. You briefly remind yourself to thank the counter guy from your local store that suggested trying CBD instead of your usual choice for a morning "pick me up". When you're pulling up to the place, you toss your phone into Latimer's lap and tell him to double-check that this is where Flug said you were supposed to go while you debate on whether or not you should just toss the blunt or save the rest for later.

Not being a huge fan of smoking joints in the first place, you kind of just want to throw it out, but you remember that Latimer trashed your favorite bong and you don't exactly have the budget to afford another, so you'll have to settle on this and maybe any of the smokes you stashed in your glove compartment a while back. Putting the blunt back into the sandwich bag you found it stowed in before, you tuck it into the side of your door and reach over Latimer to pull out of crumpled packet of cigarettes.

"This is the right place," Latimer grumbles as he shoves you back your phone and wrenches his door open to step outside. His body is still flickering from his actual demonic form and his humanized form as he watches you get out and tuck the pack and your trusty lighter into the hip of your jeans. He folds his arms over his chest and levels you with an unimpressed scowl, "You do have pockets, you know. Have you ever considered using them?"

Zipping up your jacket with a shiver, you ignore Latimer and focus your gaze on the imposing mansion in front of you. The sky seems to darken only above where it sits, and you swear you can see bats and the lights of something probably malicious flashing behind red windows. Approaching the fenced area, you hear the distant whir of machinery and narrow your eyes. You go to open the gate and stop only when Latimer grabs your shoulder and pulls you back before motioning up to the sudden bounty of huge missiles and sadistic children.

Shaking Latimer's hand off of your shoulder, you reach into your pockets, check for your car keys and phone, and pull out the latter to dial Flug.

Two rings and then, _"H-hello, yes?!"_

"Yeah, Flug? So, I'm standing outside of that place you told me to go, and there's this whole barrage of bullshittery. Not sure what you want me to do with this, but-"

_"Oh, right! Sorry! Um..."_ Flug sounds like he's scrambling around for something, so you wait patiently for him to shout out an excited, _"Okay, it's fine! Everything is-"_ the mechanical whirring dissipates, and the missiles and children seemingly disappear into thin air, so you glance over at Latimer and open the gate again. This time, nothing pops out, so you assume it's all good until Flug lets out a choked, _"Oh."_ and over the line you can hear giggling and the loud buzz of something charging up, _"Oh, no... Oh, fu-"_ and then the line cuts off. 

Looking between your phone and the building, you wonder if this is a good idea--the whole helping Flug out thing, and briefly contemplate the likelihood of these next few steps up to the mansion door being your last, because of some oversight Flug made in his apparent home-security invention. But, behind you, you hear Latimer grouch something or the other about the overtly Halloween-esque decorations and decide that, no, you're not leaving. You're not leaving even if it kills you, because anything that makes Latimer miserable is fantastic in your book.

You drudge on, adding a pep to your step and whistling contentedly, not at all noticing the shadowy figure watching you from the oval window far up on the house. There's a slight prickling of the hairs on the back of your neck standing on edge as you come to stand on the patio, but you ignore it--unwittingly sealing your fate the moment your hand grasps the door knob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't do drugs kids. they turn your brain to eggs, or whatever. (but, for real, don't smoke)
> 
> this is totally inspired by all the fanart and short fics on tumblr--*cough*[rockinmuffin](https://rocksinmuffin.tumblr.com)*cough*--, but also [this vine](https://youtu.be/f0huI_wZ6UE).


	2. High Hellos

You don't bother knocking on the door, because you assume the mansion is more of a business than a home,--not to mention it's not locked--so you push the door open and step through the threshold with Latimer in tow. The first thing you notice is that the lights are dim and cast way too many shadows in way too many places. Peeking around the foyer, you shout, "Hello?! Flug?! Anyone in here?!" of which gathers no response, save for a low grumbling somewhere in the darkness down the hall beside the stairway. 

Glancing at Latimer, you find that he's regained control over his human form and has crossed his arms over his chest. He's not looking at you, but you notice that his usual "hair" is mussed and sticking out at the top--a rather major pet peeve of yours--, so you approach him and reach up, making sure to smooth the strangely soft... whatever it actually is, until it's settled down and parted how it normally is. When you look at Latimer, you realize his yellow eyes are trained on you, his expression unreadable.

When you pull away, you notice Latimer's fingers twitch, but don't comment on it, and instead turn back to face the stairway. With an annoyed sigh, you walk to your left into what seems to be the living room, only to find it's entirely too dark for you to really search for signs of anyone. Still, you huff and cup your mouth to yell again, "Hello-", but you're stopped short when a deep, dark chuckle broils from somewhere within the darkness. You squint, trying to peer into the void, and take a few tentative steps towards the sound, "Hey, so I'm Dr. Flug's friend; mind telling me where I can find his boss, uh... um... B-Black... Hat?" _Shit,_ you wonder, _Is that his name?_ It sounds right, but you're also a little high, so sometimes you make forget things and stutter a bit, but your words only seem to further entertain the voice.

"Black Hat, you say?" the voice growls excitedly, and you think you're getting closer to it, but in the impossible darkness, you're not 100% sure, "And what would a human be doing seeking out a demon such as him? Are you here to make a deal?"

"Demon?" you frown and slow your steps toward the voice substantially, because _what the fuck?_ You already have one demon in your life, and he's an asshole, so why in the god's name would you ever want to be dealing with another one? _Because I'm broke, that's why,_ you think to yourself, _And rent's high, and_ \--you suddenly notice that you're surrounded, completely, in darkness. You'd think your eyes were closed if not for the fact you can see your body clearly, but everything else is so damn dark. 

The voice laughs, resonant and grating, and all around you. After a few moments you recognize the sound as belonging to Flug's boss--his voice although muffled at the time, was very distinct in its tone. With a patient intake of air, you fold your arms over your chest and raise a brow, "Let me guess; you're Black Hat, right?"

Again, all the voice does is laugh at you, and you can't help but roll your eyes. _Demons,_ you think, _Always with the fucking theatrics. Do they all take drama class or something in demon school, or is being dramatic just a prerequisite for becoming an asshole?_

"Dramatic, huh?" and suddenly, you're turned upside down, your world shifting and changing; you feel like you're moving, but you know, for a fact, that you haven't moved a muscle. A wave of nausea crashes over you, but otherwise, you find yourself annoyed, if not a little bored. You reach into the waistband of your jeans for your cigarettes, deciding that if this demon is going to play games with your head, you might as well smoke up, because there's not much that he can do other than piss you off and waste your time.

Your fingers snake down beneath the band only to find both your lighter and cigarettes missing. On cue, you hear the flick of your lighter and the papery curl of a cigarette burning as it's being inhaled behind you. In frustration, you whip around, ready to give Black Hat a complementary black eye, but then you see him, and your jaw almost drops.

Sitting in a tall-backed leather arm chair is probably the most overtly dapper, classically evil looking demon you've ever seen. He's all dark skin and sharp glowing teeth and beady red eyes, and everything in the rational part of your brain is telling you "stop, don't, no, please think about this", but you don't listen, because he's smoking your cigarette between gloved fingers, and giving you this devious fucking smirk, and-and... And you think he's _hot_. 

"Well," Black Hat growls, tilting his head as he blows smoke out from between his teeth, but doesn't move to remove the cigarette from his bite as he speaks, "Are you going to just stand there all day and stare, or are you going to tell me what you have to offer?"

And the question strikes you odd, because you can't really remember your own name, let alone what you're doing here anymore, but you're walking up to him anyway, stomping even, and when you reach him--just barely a hair's width from his lounging body, your knees touching his--, you do something only a stupid, reckless, nigh suicidal person would do and reach over to where Black Hat has one of your cigarettes closed between his teeth. With deft fingers, you grab it and pop it between your lips before sending the demon a haughty glare as you inhale and promptly exhale a plume of stale smoke right into his face.

At first, Black Hat just stares at you, and, defiantly, you stare right back. He might be attractive for an otherworldly being--way more attractive than he has any business being, that's for sure--, but he stole your last few smokes and your favorite lighter, and you've had enough of demons taking and ruining your things to last you the entire rest of your (probably- _hopefully_ ) short life span. 

Black Hat looks between the cigarette and your face, and before you know it, he's laughing. Although the sound is rich and vaguely distorted in the strangest way possible, you can't help but feel your cheeks heat up, because _fucking hell, even his laugh is attractive._

As the laughter dies down, Black Hat pretends to wipe a stray tear from his eye and adjusts his monocle and black tie. He stands, you blink, and suddenly you're sitting on the edge of a desk facing his empty arm chair and a draped, red-tinted window. It takes you a moment to register that you're no longer surrounded by darkness, or even in the living room anymore, because you have just enough time to look around--a four cornered room, black ornate wallpaper, a closed red door a few feet behind you--before your chin is grasped between leather clad fingers and digging in hard enough to bruise until you're turned back around to face forward roughly.

One of your hands flings backwards to steady yourself while the other shoots up to grab the wrist of the hand that holds your chin. However, just before you're able to make contact, something snaps to your wrist and pulls it away, pinning it against your thigh as you're forced to stare up at Black Hat--that same heat blushing your cheeks, now threatens to curl much, much lower as the thing--tendril, maybe?--holding your wrist gently swipes against the cloth of your inner thigh. You bite your lip.

Black Hat's many impossibly sharp teeth seem to multiply as his grin widens, nearly cutting his face in half with his mirth, "Hmm, not the reaction I was looking for, but..." Black Hat's hand on your chin drops to rest on your throat as he leans forward. You close your eyes, your fingers clenching along the inseam of your jeans--the wooden desk beneath your palm, because you know you should be scared, your body knows you should be scared--hell, your heart is beating like there's no tomorrow, because maybe there _won't be_ for you. But, you don't do anything more than gasp as the rim of Black Hat's hat grazes the shell of your ear, his breath laving heat along the curve of your shoulder as his other hand moves to grasp your waist, "I can work with this..."

You shiver, and despite yourself, whimper as he dips forward and-

_Knock, Knock_

"Uh, sir, I-I, um..." Flug stammers from behind you through the red door. Black Hat growls, and the sound alerts you to just how close he is to your exposed neck. Sobering up, the hand behind you moves to push against him, but Black Hat just grabs it, as well as scoops your other wrist together in the same hand and pulls you toward his chest. You look at him, suddenly realizing just how compromising this new position is, and nervously glance down between the spread of your legs to see how closely pressed Black Hat is to you. If you just shift barely a centimeter forward, you'd be flush against him in the worst--best--way possible, and that thought sends another coil of pleasure down to the heat between your legs.

Black Hat chuckles, and you swear you melt when you look up to meet his eye only to find it half-lidded and watching you with the kind of smoldering gaze that promises dark things--dirty things--things that will make you beg, and suddenly you have the urge to buck your hips into his and take whatever he has to offer, but the knocking on the door gets louder and now you can hear not only Flug, but Latimer on the other side, shouting at Black Hat.

"Do not kill my contract, Black Hat. She and I have a deal." and then, when Black Hat doesn't reply, only leans back to slowly look you over, your hands still in his grasp, Latimer growls and bangs harder on the door, "Black Hat, if you have killed her, I would suggest you consider your next few moves very carefully, because I am this close to ripping into you like the putrid abomination-"

Black Hat chuckles, loud enough so that it filters through to Latimer and Flug's prying ears, cutting the former's threat short. "Do you really think I'd waste my time killing her when she and I have already set our own little arrangement in play?" even as he speaks to Latimer, Black Hat is looking down at you, and _god,_ if you survive this encounter, let it be known that Black Hat has the most sultry fucking bedroom eyes this side of the human world has ever seen. 

You feel Black Hat shift so that he's fully seated against you, and _holy shit_... what the fuck is _that_?

Before you can deliberate on it any further, Black Hat is leaning forward, free hand cradling the back of your head while the other keeps a firm hold on both of your hands until they're trapped between the space of your and his chests. Still, Black Hat falls forward, coaxing you to lay flat on the desk, your legs reflexively coming up to wrap around his waist to help you balance. Again, your eyebrows practically shoot up to your hairline, because you didn't get _that_ high, but you swear you feel something down there moving. _What the shit?_  

With a dark laugh, Black Hat smirks down at you, face teasing the line of uncomfortably close, but not quite eye crossing as he very much forces you to keep eye contact with him, "You're an interesting one," he remarks, voice low, and, as a result, more obviously distorted, but you still find yourself shivering in his grasp anyway, "I think you and I are going to have some great fun... what do you think?"

Your throat is dry, but your mouth is so wet that you think you might end up drooling. Swallowing hard, you lick your lips--you catch Black Hat's eye follow the movement before flicking back up to yours--and you try to muster up the mental capacity to respond in a coherent manner, "What I-I..." you see the corner of Black Hat's eye crinkle, because he's enjoying this--enjoying watching you, a practical stranger, melt in his hands. You attempt to steel your resolve and only somewhat succeed, "What do I th-think?" 

Black Hat's grin is almost overbearing, so pleased--amused--that it's taking you so much effort to speak in the short span of time he has taken to seduce you. Distantly, think you hear someone pounding on the door, again, and also yelling, but just as you make to turn your head and look, Black Hat's hand in your hair grips at your roots and tugs, forcing you to keep your gaze focused solely on him.

He's not as amused, now, something shadowy and vicious tinging his features as he presses forward, tilting your head back to expose the sensitive under side of your jaw with a sharp pull at your hair, and grazes the pointed tips of his teeth along the skin there. "You're the new assistant Flug requested I put on payroll, yes?" every syllable uttered catches razor edged pricks along your neck, causing you to let out a low, needy whine in the back of your throat. Black Hat chuckles, "Yes, well, how about I skip paying you conventionally, and instead explore some new methods of payment for your hard work; a deal made special, just for you."

Your eyes shoot open, muscles going taut. _Excuse me?_ You splay your previously clenched fists against his chest and push him away with your finger tips. It doesn't do much, at first, but when you start squirming, and not in the sexy way, Black Hat leans back with a sigh, relinquishing his hold in your hair, but still not willing to let go of your wrists. Looking down at you expectantly, Black Hat raises a brow, "What is it?" and then, when you just stare at him suspiciously, toeing the line of contempt, he actually rolls his eye before focusing on you with an annoyed scowl, "I haven't got all day. Speak."

Suddenly, that attractive voice rings irritatingly mocking, and you find that previous heat you were experiencing dissipating very, very quickly. "Yeah, uh," you start, before shaking violently out of his hold, catching Black Hat off guard so much so that he releases your wrists, but doesn't step away, even as you sit up and jab an accusatory finger against his chest, "What. The. Fuck?!" each word is punctuated by harsh poke that forces a grunt past his grit teeth. "The fuck you mean you don't wanna 'pay me conventionally'?!"

Black Hat growls, eyeing you with disdain, which, right now, is totally fucking fine, because _what the hell?_ He opens his mouth to speak, probably thinking what he's going to say next will stop all forms of your protest, but you cut him off with an angry push that has him glaring fiercely down at you, "Who the hell offers to pay their employees with sex?! Who do you think you are?! I don't know what's going on in those pants of yours, but you can bet your classy demon ass that I'm not going to suck it as _payment_ for working for _you_!"

Again, Black Hat attempts to get a word in, even as you continue to rant, but just as he's about to say something, you push him again, this time with both hands, and he would have stumbled back if not for the fact he grabs onto your thighs to keep himself upright. You pause in your raving to glance down at his hands gripping your thighs and then up at his face. He grins; he thinks he has you. Your eyes narrow; he does not.

You shift your hips, shaking violently in order to throw his hands from your thighs. It kind of works, only because instead of gripping your thighs, he hands slide to either side of your hips and push down onto the desk as he stands up to his full height, temper flaring. You, however, don't care, "What kind of business are you running, anyway?!" you shout, and you don't notice it, but all the yelling before that was coming through the door has since quieted. Black Hat's eye twitches. "You have to be absolutely insane to think I'll let you get away with paying me with-...with _dick_ or _tentacles_ or whatever other fun, wacky surprises you got down there, because you don't want to pay me in actual human money! You're ridiculous! I have half a mind to-"

Suddenly, one of Black Hat's hands is on your throat again, his other lifting and falling on the desk beside you as he slams you backwards against it. Your head hits the wood with an audible smack, dizzying you for a second, but you can't well reflect on it now, because Black Hat is looming over you with his original face distorted into some sort of blobbish horror. Teeth and eyeballs and dripping flesh swirl like an emptying drain into the middle of his new head where an infinite blackness spirals sharp teeth and echoes distant screams somewhere deep inside of him.

"You dare oppose me, weakling?! I am a demon, an ancient in your time! You mean nothing to me!" You hear Black Hat shouting, his voice layered and rumbling dark and loud, shaking the desk, the window, the room surrounding you. Your eyes are wide, mouth open as you watch him and think, _This is new_. Black Hat snarls and leans down so that you and some of his eyes are on the same level. "I can kill you in with a thought--mangle your corpse into mince meat and your soul to dust! You would spend an eternity in darkness, agony, forced to experience a new torture, a new way for me to rip you apart, every hour--every second--for the rest of your insignificant after life. I can do this and more, human, and you-" Black Hat stops short when you close your eyes and mouth only to open them again and yawn. You blink, teary eyed and sleepy at him, and it's enough for his skin to bristle. He tries, again, only this time with much less gusto, "I can-"

"This is great and all, Hatty," you pause and look over at Black Hat with a dark twinkle in your eye, all traces of false weariness replaced with cold amusement, "Can I call you 'Hatty'?"

Black Hat's eyes blink, teeth chewing and writhing as his body quakes, the hand on your throat tightening only slightly, while his other against the desk takes the brunt force of his fury as his nails threaten to dig through his gloves and into the polished wood surface. Eyeing you, Black Hat sounds almost offended, "No, you cannot-"

"Hatty," you continue, brushing him off, as you reach a hand up to rest easily on his wrist where his fingers clench around your throat subconsciously, "I don't think you understand what I'm getting at here." you run your fingertips along his wrist and up and down his forearm. The hand that holds your throat squeezes slightly, warning you, but you keep running your fingers along his arm until he lessens his grip with a multiple eyed scowl. You smile, "As much as I'd love to find out all these exciting new ways you can verbally get me off, I'm one of the only people out here, besides Dr. Flug, that know what they're doing when it comes down to sick and twisted experiments. I've killed people, tortured them until they wished I was merciful enough to kill them, because I get the job done no matter the cost. There's a reason why Flug called me and not some fresh faced graduate who doesn't know a demonic contract from a temp position."

Black Hat stops writhing and looks at you. You grin, but the expression is anything but happy, "Now, I'm a little busy taking care of things on my end, so I'll let the operation you've got here with Flug slide... for, now. But, in the meanwhile, why don't we talk some classic, beautifully green ol' _phat stacks_."

Even reverting back to his humanized form, Black Hat keeps his hand wrapped around your throat, although the limb is no longer choking, just resting there, firmly, his fingers dig and massage idly as he considers you with an interested gaze, "Stacks?" he asks, "Of what?"

It's your turn to show your teeth; although very much human, your smile is surprisingly disturbing--all pearly white and gleaming, "Money." you hiss, and reflexively, Black Hat's hand on your throat clenches, his other hand on the desk closing into a tight fist.

Black Hat's not sure how to feel about this new turn of events, even less so about the sudden spike in... activity that may or may not be going on in his pants, but as you meet his gaze with nothing but crazed determination glittering in your eyes, he finds himself strangely unwilling to deny you anything.

"What do you have in mind?" he says, smoothly, casually, as if he's not angling his hips just a bit to keep his lower body from touching the hot spread of your thighs. He grits his teeth, but attempts to maintain his usual dubious smirk, "I am a reasonable demon, but you'll have to find a way to convince me of a mutually beneficial situation."

Still grinning, you lean forward, pressing your throat harder into his hand, and push up until your lips are hovering just beside where his ear should be, "I think we can work something out."

It takes all of Black Hat's will power not to push you down against the desk and fuck you like he's aching to--until you're screaming and writhing and until that awful, wonderfully evil smirk on your lips can only shape to moan his name as he ruts into you like he's trying to break you. Black Hat can feel the twinge of pleasure as he presses against his slacks. He smiles, thrilled with the prospect of a new challenge, "We'll see about that."

And then the door behind you breaks open.


	3. The Trouble With Experimentation

Like most college kids only going to university for the newfound independence and apparently crazy party scene, you don't care or attempt to maintain an acceptable grade point average until the start of finals week. Of course, to you, this is a reasonable ideal to have when tackling a stressful academic lifestyle--party most of the semester, and study like hell for when the tests really matter. Your philosophy is that, at worst, you'll get a C, and, at best, you're in a class where the final test is practically the only test you'll be given, so why stress about anything else?

Now, realistically, almost none of your classes actually follow through in this manner. So, most of the time, you're coerced into studying, or, at the very least, turning in the occasional assignment and/or completing a quiz by your ever astute roommate, Flug Slys. 

Flug keeps you balanced and barely passing, and although getting you to attend your classes is almost as difficult as forcing a fish to climb a tree, he never gives up on you. It's a mystery whether this persistence stems from the fact that he's your friend and he cares about you, or that he'll have to find another roommate to share the bills with if you drop out, and he'll be hard pressed to meet anyone even half as helpful as you when it comes down to the ethically questionable experiments he runs as he tries to invent something new.

Either way, Flug makes sure you're getting through college, and that's more than almost anyone else has done for you. So, to show your thanks, when he offhandedly--and perhaps jokingly--comments about his lack of appropriate test subjects for some nanorobotic project he's working on, you went out, found one for him, and dragged it into the apartment all while assuring him his new test subject is simply a very convincing fake dead body you found in the drama department's back room.

Even though you're pretty sure he didn't believe you when you dropped it onto the counter of his makeshift laboratory, its limp arms flopping about, Flug didn't immediately call the cops, so at least he sort of trusted you. It took a few minutes of convincing, but, eventually, Flug picked up a scalpel with a shaky hand, instrument poised to slice, before he stopped and whispered something like, "I can't do this". Not wanting your hard effort to go to waste, you reminded Flug of the nanites he had been working on for weeks, and the illnesses he could cure with them. When he grabbed the scalpel again, still somewhat hesitant, you sighed and popped a pair of beagle puss glasses on its face to lighten the mood. He had looked at you confused, but no longer seemed frightened.

The first time he cut into the body, you led him through it. Eventually, he got over it--the gruesome squelching, the blood--and has since stopped being as squeamish when it comes to the subjects you occasionally bring him. Somehow, your relationship as roommates didn't suffer, the only difference being he hardly ever asks you questions anymore when you come home late at night, half-baked and spattered in swathes of red, and honestly? His new lack of curiosity into your personal life suits you just fine.

With blood on his gloves, Flug leans out of the plastic covered back room he had converted into a "laboratory" upon realizing the steady stream of police sirens that had echoed ever closer was not simply part of the beat of a particularly bass heavy song. As the sirens shut off, Flug peeks around and down the hallway, and sees you kneeling at the front door, peering through the small, old, curled flaps of the cat door in rapt silence.

Flug calls your name as he steps out of the room, being mindful of the sticky crimson liquid that clings to his gloves, plastic butcher's apron, and sanitary boots, "Hey, what's going on?"

At the sound of Flug's voice, you jump up and away from the front door, the flap of the cat door shutting closed as you scramble backwards until you're falling into his arms. While holding you up right, Flug sees two distinct shadows through the cloth of the curtains beside the front door. They shift. One shadow lifts its hand, fist closed-

_Knock, Knock_

_"Local law enforcement. Open up."_

You turn in Flug's hold, pushing away from him even as you grip the side of his arm and look up with an uncharacteristic worry lining your face, "They're here!" you half hiss, half whisper, fingernails digging into the cloth of his lab coat, "I don't know why. I-I think it might have something to do with me punching Professor Stenson the other day, or-or maybe something else, but they're here and I think they want to take me in!"

"Take you in?" Flug blinks, "What do you mean 'take you in'?" When you don't immediately respond, just drop the hand that had been clutching his arm to chew at your bitten down fingernails, Flug attempts to be the calm one in the situation and takes your wrists in his hands. You look up at him, eyes watery and red and Flug thinks he sees what the problem is. "Are you... Are you high?"

Your eyebrows raise, dismayed. You pull your wrists out of his hands just as the officer knocks on the door, again. _"Police. Open up. We know you're in there; we saw you through the cat door."_

"Look," you whisper, brows furrowed in annoyance, "it doesn't matter if I'm high. I-I don't know what they want, but I know that I can't answer the door--not like this!" you chew at your bottom lip and from how close you're standing, Flug can see the tears threatening to spill past your lashes.

Fake cursing under his breath, Flug places a hand on your shoulder and attempts to push past you, only for you to hiss, "Wait!", and pull him back.

"What?" Flug bites. Although the harshness of his statement is purely coincidental with the rising stress of the situation, Flug always finds himself annoyed when he finds out that you've been smoking again.

You shake your head and gesture up and down his body. Flug looks down and pales. Blood--a whole hell of a lot of it. Even though most of it is splotched on the plastic apron and gloves he's wearing, when he had caught you just a few moments ago some of it had spread-"Christ," Flug tears off his protective gear before reaching over and wiping the sticky red from your cheek, "It's all over you!" he says, and without thinking, Flug grasps the bottom hem of your turtle neck shirt and moves to peel it away from you, "You need to get this off. There are potentially dangerous and unstable nanites in this compound, you could-"

Batting his hands away, you look almost wild at Flug, expression flitting from rage to terror before finally settling on some emotion he can't read. You pull away from Flug and march into the bathroom.

For a few moments, Flug stands dumbly in the middle of the hallway, unsure how exactly to feel, but knowing he doesn't feel good. Finally, turning on his heel, Flug inches towards the bathroom to apologize to you, saying, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I was just trying to make sure the nanites didn't-uh...didn't..." now, standing in front of the open door, Flug sees you have gotten completely naked in order to rinse off in the shower.

Instinctively, Flug wants to turn away and cover his eyes, but before he can do so, he catches sight of the expanse of your neck, chest, and shoulders, and suddenly a lot of things make sense. Finger shaped bruises, healing cuts, fully formed bite marks, and painfully dark hickeys--the sight is enough to set Flug's teeth on edge. Then, you glance at him. Not appearing to express in one way or another, just look at him, and suddenly Flug realizes he shouldn't be staring at you. Turning, he grimaces, his hands clenching into fists on either side of him, "I-I'm sorry. I should have knocked."

Never mind you left the door and shower curtain open, never mind you looked at him like you wanted him to see you. There's no attraction in your gaze, and, strangely enough, none in Flug's either, just... vulnerability--like you were trying to tell him something without saying a word.

Shutting off the shower, Flug hears the soft padding of your footsteps as you exit the shower, and when the officer knocks again, Flug hears them shout, _"We just want to ask you some questions, Miss! No need to be alarmed!"_

Flug nearly jumps when you place a hand on his shoulder, "I'm decent, now," you assure him as you step around to face him, your torso wrapped in a white cotton towel while you look every bit the part of an abused, and drenched kitten.

Opening his mouth, Flug is caught between the urge of demanding you tell him what happened, and pretending he didn't notice, because he isn't sure what to say. You're his roommate and one of his closest friends, and he just saw you naked, and all he wants to do is hug you, because you look like you need someone to lean on, but he doesn't know if he fits the bill. Flug understands that you don't tell each other everything even if you tolerate and often help him with his experiments, but he's worried about you. So, Flug decides to ask, "Did-...did _he_ do that to you?"

Your lips press tightly together, eyebrows lowered as you stab a finger at him, but before you can say anything the police knock, and shout something about you really not being in any trouble. You whip your head to glare at the door, and curse under your breath. Turning away from Flug, you run into your bedroom and after a few minutes, back out again, messily dressed and hair dripping wet, but posture firm and fiercely confident. You nudge Flug into the bathroom as you pass by, "You should probably wash up you really think the nanites are dangerous. Not sure what they'll do to the piping, but we only rent here, so..." you approach the front door, all traces of fear and vulnerability gone, like you hadn't just been on the verge of tears a few moments ago.

Numbly, Flug obeys just as you crack the front door open, smoothly moving to stand in the space of the door frame with the practiced casualness of an experienced actor, "Hello, officers. Is there something I can help you with?" Flug can practically hear your smile, probably all innocent and coy, even though you have a freezer burnt dead body filled with tiny robots in the back room, "I'm sorry I took so long, I was a little distracted taking a shower with my boyfriend-um, well, you know how it is."

As Flug closes the bathroom door, a great sense of unease fills him as he wonders who exactly he's living with. You're not just a normal, every day stoner party animal like you portray yourself to be. You're unpredictable, and probably dangerous if the aforementioned (and consistently supplied) dead bodies are anything to go by, but somehow Flug doesn't find himself scared of you, just... scared for you. 

Through the door, Flug hears you bid the officers a friendly goodbye with a charming, gentle laugh, and internally decides to push these thoughts deep down as he rids himself of his clothing and steps into the shower.

You have your life, and he has his, and all Flug can do is hopes that whatever you're doing, you manage to make it out alright, because even with all those puzzle pieces missing, he can't help but still think you're a pretty good person. You're his friend.

 

\-   -   -

 

In less than the time it takes you to blink, you find yourself sitting rather elegantly in one of two chairs opposite of Black Hat's desk. With one leg crossed over the other, your hands rest neatly on your knee, back arched just slightly to accentuate your chest and better your posture. In all, you're sat in the way of a professional--not at all indicative of the previously risqué situation you had found yourself in.

Frowning, you look down and unfold yourself out of the pose and into a more comfortable and casual position. You eye Black Hat who is sat in his arm chair with his hands clasped together on his desk. Mockingly, he inclines his head to you with a toothy grin, as if this is how you both had been sitting all along, "So, your payment," Black Hat starts suddenly, "How does $15 hourly sound to you?"

Your brows crease, slightly confused, but you can hear shuffling behind you and remember that both Flug and Latimer had burst through the door a few moments ago. You sit up, clear your throat, and quickly fall in line with the conversation, "No offense, but the work I can offer as Flug's assistant is worth much more than $15."

"Oh?" Black Hat sounds amused as he leans back in his arm chair, fingers steepling beneath his chin, "And how do you figure that? Dr. Flug works here happily--practically free of charge," Black Hat glances briefly over your shoulder before returning his interest back to you with a cautionary glint in his eye, "Now, I was being generous, but, pray tell: what makes you think that my company needs your labor desperately enough that I will be willing to pay you above what I have just offered?"

"I'm the best at what I do," you explain, glancing quickly at Flug over your shoulder before returning your attention to Black Hat, "Don't get me wrong; Flug is a fantastic inventor--a better scientist than I can ever hope to become, but next to him, there's no one better than me." you pause to adjust your posture into something more headstrong, "I'm a jack of all trades, because I make it my business to understand how things tick. But, my expertise is biology and chemistry, and, from what I understand, those skills are exactly what your company needs."

Black Hat hums, "So, what do you believe you're worth?" the smile he gives you is teasing and irritatingly suggestive.

"Much more than you can pay me," you reply, almost snarkily, not missing a beat.

Black Hat laughs, the tone wicked and grating, and you have to force yourself to ignore the shudder that threatens to run down your spine. Leaning forward, Black Hat's red eye observes you with clandestine amusement as he replies, "I was referring to your salary, but if you wish to discuss other matters we can certainly do so-"

"$35 an hour," you interject, ears threatening to burn hot at the insinuation, "I would like my hours to be between 9am and 5pm. I want a 1 hour lunch break, and time off on the weekends and specific holidays."

The grin on Black Hat's face falters, but otherwise, he retains his usual mischievous expression with little to no effort, "$20 per hour, 6 days a week, 9 to 5 is fine, so long as you complete your work by the end of the day. You can be off on either Saturday or Sunday, but you will not receive sick leave unless under special conditions you must bring attention to me."

"$30," you push, "And don't you know it's a sin to work on Sundays, Black Hat? It called the 'day of rest' for a reason."

Black Hat laughs, his ever present green grin widening, "For you, I'll amend my offer; $25, and no higher. I expect to see you here at 9am sharp, Monday through Saturday, and you may leave at 6, but I will grant you an hour and a half break which you can spread throughout your work period at your leisure."

You raise your brows, not expecting his offer, because it's better than a lot of the jobs you've had before this... and he's a demon, "What about sick leave?" and then, "I was told this is going to be a temporary position, so how long do you estimate I'll be working here?"

"If you are too ill to work, you must make sure to contact me or Flug beforehand, but you will not be paid for the days you do not show here." Black Hat rubs his chin thoughtfully, "As for how long you'll be here, that all depends on how well you work and how many projects both you and Flug can complete within any given amount of time." Standing suddenly, Black Hat saunters toward you, hands intertwined behind his back. You move from your seat as well, hoping you're reading his body language right as he pauses directly in front of you and tips just an edge forward, leering down at you from his impressive height. Extending his hand, Black Hat smiles maliciously, and from this position you feel very small in comparison, "Do we have a deal?" he asks.

You're about to complete the gesture when someone grabs your arm and pulls you back and to the side. Wrenching your limb away, you glare up at none other than Latimer who is giving you an irate scowl, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Uh, getting a job..?" folding your arms across your chest, you meet Latimer's glare with an unimpressed gaze, "Is there something I should know, or are you just being shitty, because no one opened the door for you?"

"I thought you were _dead_." he explains, voice low, although not in volume. There's a flash of something like worry you catch in his eyes before he runs a hand through his "hair", body shivering as if he's trying to control his form as he glances from you to Black Hat and then back to you, "You realize he's a demon, yes? Any contract he makes with you will come with peculiar stipulations, big and small, and if you accept, you won't be able to refuse his demands. His contract will be bound, literally and figuratively, to your soul."

You squint your eyes at Latimer and crinkle your nose,  "I'm sorry, but... aren't you a demon? I made a contract with you, and so far, things have been ok. I mean, you're annoying as shit, but you haven't done anything 'peculiar' that wasn't explicit part of our agreement."

"That's-" Latimer sighs, jaw clenching. In a second, his form mutilates itself before returning to his human state. Somewhere behind you, Flug gasps. Latimer pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, "I'm different." When you roll your eyes, he grabs your shoulder and turns you so that you can see Black Hat who has resigned to leaning casually against his desk, watching your none too private conversation with an enigmatic smile, "If you remember clearly, I also possessed you, and, for very irritating reasons you've misguidedly wrought upon both our pitiful existences, I cannot _un-possess_ you, so our situation is drastically incomparable." indicating Black Hat, Latimer juts his chin, "He, however, I can guarantee is dangerous," Latimer continues, "Did you not listen to me when I told you of his history, or had you been too busy 'self-medicating' to bother paying attention?"

"Uh, I'm sorry," Flug speaks up suddenly, "Is this  _him_?" you meet Flug's gaze, but are unsure what he's talking about. Flug tries again, " _Him._  The guy from that one time in college. I was asking you remember? Is this him?"

You look at Flug, "What?", and it takes you a few seconds, but you think you make the connection, "N-No, I-well, technically yes. It-it's a long story." You turn from Flug, focus Latimer with a glare, and wave your hand rudely for him to move. When he doesn't, just morphs out of his human form and into roiling flesh and gooey eyes, you push him out of the way and walk to Black Hat whose grin darkens in glee. Latimer twists once to watch you lift your hand for Black Hat to shake, before Latimer growls and stomps out of the room, mumbling several incoherent, probably unearthly words as he goes. 

At your offer for a handshake, Black Hat stands and meets your gesture likewise. You smile, half in relief, because finally you'll be able to pay your landlord all that money you owe him, only to wrench your hand back from Black Hat's grasp when something slices the heel of your palm. Blood oozes out of the short, but deep cut. You look up at Black Hat while clutching the back of your hand, "What the hell?!"

Suddenly, a long scroll labeled "Contract" unravels in front of you, the bottom falling along the floor and pooling all the way back to the tips of Flug's feet where he stands a little ways behind you. The top of the contract hovers beside Black Hat inked with suspiciously small, cursive lettering. You reach out to grab it, but Black Hat beats you to it, folding the paper until you see an 'X' with a line beside it, waiting for your signature. Flug stutters, but can't manage to finish his sentence before Black Hat snatches your injured palm and smears sticky blood along the empty space beside the 'X'. 

From the red of your blood, your signature blooms. You gawk, and take a step back, your hand dropping from Black Hat's as you do so. The contract you made with Latimer had been a completely different experience, and, as such, you find yourself crossing into territory you're unsure you're prepared for.

"Yeah, so..." you rub your arm, and gaze up at Black Hat through your lashes, trying your best to seem innocent in the hopes of the demon showing you some sort of mercy, "You're not actually going to screw me over, right, Black Hat?"

Black Hat paces forward, posture not unlike that of a wolf prowling toward its prey, "'Screw you over'?" he chuckles, grabbing your cut hand to press his thumb against the wound. You wince and try to pull back, but Black Hat simply smirks and streaks the blood down to your wrist as you pulls you close, "That depends... do you think you've earned it?"

Your eyes widen, your stomach turning, because suddenly, you're realizing how much of a bad idea riling up an ancient demon was even as you shift, body getting a bit hot, "Um... I-um...- _oh!_ " the sound slips out before you can stop it as what can only be a smooth fucking _tentacle_ slips out from underneath his shirt and into the front of your pants where it presses against your panties and flicks up. Your thighs clench, your back shivering-

"Uh, Sir!" Flug shouts, "Please don't hurt her!" You hear hurried footsteps approaching as Black Hat's tendril slithers out of your pants and back into place, but he refuses to let go of your wrist or look away from the flustered expression on your face, "I'm sorry, Black Hat, Sir, but I really need her alive and well for the projects I'm working on." Flug says as he comes to stand beside you, "A-and it's getting late, and I-I think I should show her around the lab before she needs to get home."

Still, Black Hat's continues to grip your wrist, his focus trained on you; that same look from earlier telling you of the things he wants to do you blurs all of your rational thoughts into one long string of hazy desire. Flug clears his throat and places a steady hand on your shoulder, pulling Black Hat's attention away to where Flug's hand rests and then up to the shaded glass of his goggles, "Sir?" Flug repeats.

With a deep set scowl, Black Hat drops your hand and stands to his full height. "Leave." he says, turning on his heel to walk over to his desk, "And take the assistant with you. Make sure she understands what is expected of her here at Black Hat Inc, or else there will be consequences."

"Uh, yes, Sir!" Flug grabs your arm and pulls you out of the office where the door slams closed. Letting go of you, Flug sighs, "Sorry I couldn't meet with you sooner, some kinks I still need to work out of the defense system..."

You straighten out your shirt, attempting to appear casual even as your mind run wild with increasingly inappropriate thoughts, "Yeah, no, it's no problem. No problem at all..." You try to take the breathiness from your voice with a cough as you put your hands on your hips and give Flug a reassuring smile, "So, you gonna show me what we're going to work on, or was all that negotiating and contract jazz all just for show?"

"Right, uh..." Flug walks down the hall towards the stairs with you following slightly behind him, "Do you... are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into?"

Your brain flashes to thoughts on Black Hat "screwing you over" several different items, although the first, you suspect, will be his desk... or against the wall, or maybe his arm chair.

Flug says your name, bringing you back to reality, "Do you know what you're getting into, or should I just try to... I don't know, convince him that it's not going to work?"

Shaking your head, you follow Flug down the stairs, "No, I can handle this." Briefly, you think about the tendril that came out from under Black Hat's shirt and whatever had been wriggling hard against the front of his pants, You bite your lip, "At least, I'm pretty sure I got this, and, even if I can't, you'll be here to help me out, right, Flug? It'll be like old times."

Flug gives you a nervous laugh, his paper bag crinkling slightly with the shake of his shoulders, "Yeah, old times." As you near the front of a pair of steel double doors, Flug offers you a kind glance, "It's good to see you, again, by the way."

"You too, Flug," you reply, "Thanks for reaching out to me for this; I was three payments down on my rent, but it looks like I'll be able to pay my landlord back over the next few months if things go the way they're looking to be."

"Don't thank me, yet." Flug says as he pushes open one of two double steel doors, "The work is tolerable enough, but my boss-well, our boss, now-he's...well, let's just say he's someone best to avoid."

You walk through the door with a faint, uneasy smile, "I'm sure you're right," you reply looking over the huge lab area as you change the subject, "So, give me the run down. What do you want me to start working on, Flug? You're the boss."

At that Flug stammers and rushes over to a counter laden with papers and schematics, "Well, I was thinking..." he trails off.

You walk over to Flug and look over his shoulder as he scrounges around for whatever he's searching for, but a tingling at the back of your neck urges you to turn around. In the bright lit lab, there's no mistaking the shadowy figure looming close to the door, humanoid in shape, but completely shrouded in pitch black that seems to emanate similarly colored smoke. Your stomach sinks as you take a step back, jumping when you accidentally bump into Flug who looks up suddenly. He calls your name in question.

The figure disappears right as you glance at Flug and turn back to look at where it had been. You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand and look down at it to see the slight tremor of your fingers. You shove your hand into your pocket when Flug calls your name again. Facing Flug once more, you let out a deep breath, "Sorry, just got distracted. What were you saying?"

Flug stares at you for a single moment, before going back to his previous spiel as he sifts through papers hurried, "Right, so I was saying..."

And the night goes on, Flug explaining the project he wants to work on first--something about a cyborg and a set of human skin--, but you can't shake the feeling of being watched until Latimer strolls into the lab, pointedly not looking at you as he plops down onto a stool and glares at nothing in particular until he gets book and picks up a random theoretical book from the counter he's sitting in front of.

You smile and return to your work. You'll never admit it, but Latimer being close by always sets you at ease. If it wasn't for the fact you promised him your soul, and all the other things that have happened since then, you'd thank him for being around, but as it is-

"This science nonsense is a waste of time! How can anyone enjoy reading this, let alone take the time to understand it!" Latimer slams the hard cover down and spins out of his chair to begin pacing the length of the lab, still ranting as he throws his arms around for emphasis, "And _another_ thing-"

Yeah, you'll keep your thoughts to yourself.


	4. Contract Negotiations

The day starts off nice and slow; the morning light shining through your open window casting gentle heat across your face and waking you. With a yawn and a stretch, you sit up from your couch, jacket slightly opened and jeans tugging against sheets you don't quite remember covering up with. Still, you smile, noting with satisfaction that although Latimer had possessed you upon your return home last night, he has chosen to let the quiet of the early morning remain quiet, and had let you sleep throughout the night peacefully, despite having crashed in the living room.

Inside your head, Latimer sighs, "So you're actually doing this then?" He sounds irate, and you guess you may have been premature in thinking he could shut up for a moment and enjoy the peace, but you refuse to let his cynicism get the best of you. 

Rolling your shoulders, you reach over to the coffee table and grab the baggie containing the blunt from earlier that you brought out of your car, "I'm gonna smoke up, now. You want out, you should do it quick." You feel your hand twitch over the bag as Latimer attempts to make you throw the thing out the window. Moving your shaky hand, you use it to massage the tight muscles in your neck and let out a deep breath, "I'm not playing around, Latimer. I have to go to work in-" you check your phone, "half an hour. Just let me have this."

There's a cool pain that passes through you as he leaves, body materializing as he pulls himself out through your mouth. You don't normally notice how unpleasant the feel of it is, like something tugging and breaking somewhere between your spine and the center of your chest. You shudder and put the blunt to your lips, eyeing Latimer as he stands and stares down at you with his arms crossed. You reach into your waistband for your lighter, but find neither that, nor your cigarettes. It takes you a moment, but, "Shit," you say, slapping a hand over your forehead before standing up to go to the kitchen, "That _bastard_."

Black Hat never did quite give you your stuff back; he was too busy feeling you up and you were too busy being felt up to notice. How did you not notice? Looking through your drawers, you find a cheap, red BIC lighter and light up. The first pull is fine. The blunt is dry, and it makes you wonder whether or not you had fully closed the bag the first time you opened it. The second pull isn't the best, but then again, you always hated smoking up with a joint, and this one is starting to hurt your head. It's burning quickly, so you think you have at least two more hits before you can safely throw it away, but on the third pull, the smoke chokes you hard and you drop the blunt and the lighter as you fall into a coughing fit.

Hunching over the sink, you grab a glass from the counter and proceed to try to fill it with water, but the tap isn't working. You turn and twist the handle, but still, there is no water coming out from the faucet, and your cough is becoming painful. "Here," Latimer says behind you as he holds out a half drunk bottle of water, uncapped. You take it with a grateful nod, and gulp the drink down. When you're done, you pant and wipe the choking tears away from your eyes.

"Thanks," you say, tossing the empty bottle into the bin, and then the blunt as you pick up the lighter and pocket it. Just how old was that blunt? How the hell did you manage to smoke that shit earlier without any problems? Your temples throb, so you elect to grab an apple and another bottle of water from your dark fridge-- _huh, the power must be out_ \--and move to sit on your couch and read over some local news from your phone when Latimer clears his throat in a "hey look over here, stupid" way. 

You turn mid-bite into the apple with a raised brow. He's standing by the front door with a piece of paper in his hand. He does not look pleased. You rip a chunk from the apple, walk to him, and take the piece of paper out of his grasp. It reads:

_"Dear Resident of Apt. 979"_

_You are hereby presented a notice of eviction to vacate the premises on or before the given date-"_

You blink, mouth tugging down in a grimace, "What the hell? That's today's date," you say more to yourself than to Latimer, but the demon responds anyway with a tired sigh.

"Yes, but keep reading." he says.

_"The reason for this eviction notice is as follows:_

_(X) Your failure to pay rent due in arrears. Demands for payment have been made on the past three months' rent payment periods, however, you have refused to forward the necessary funds to pay the rent during these times._

_(X) Dumping trash outside of the standardized trash bins. You have been spotted to have dumped trash on the property sidewalks outside of the apartment, disturbing other tenants and voiding your contract._

_(X) Smoking in and/or around non-smoking designated areas. You have voided your contract agreement by smoking inside of the apartment, and outside of given smoking areas._

_You are hereby notified that you will not be able to remain in the premises due to these violations of your rental agreement. You must gather your belongings and vacate the building no later than the aforementioned date._

_Failure to comply will result in the authorities being called, and legal action to be taken in order to ensure your lawful removal."_

You look up from the notice and to Latimer, "What the shit?"

"Yes, well, this is what happens when you consistently smoke your illicit drugs on someone else's property. You're bound to get caught one day or-"

"No, I mean, can they do that?" you shake the paper at Latimer, "Can they just kick me out without giving me time to move?"

Latimer's brows furrow, "How should I know? I have not personally rented an apartment myself. You seem to forget that I am not human."

Weed isn't exactly legal where you're at, so you'd really rather avoid anyone calling the police, much less your landlord suing you as you think he had implied. You let out a huff and crumple up the paper as you take another bite of your apple, "Right, yeah, sorry." you chew hurriedly, trying to finish the fruit as you simultaneously text Flug to tell him you'll be late for work. Afterwards, you pocket your phone and throw your finished apple somewhere in the sink before rushing off to your bedroom.

Pulling out your luggage, you begin packing your clothes and most essential items--underwear, bras, holy water, change of shoes--and manage to stuff it all into one huge bag. In a separate computer satchel, you toss all your electronics, and several other items like your charging cable, charms and charm books, and even some nicotine patches you found stuffed in between a wards book. You look a few over, stick half in your bag, and pocket a few before you continue packing.

When you're done, you begin folding up some of your blankets and your pillows before tossing those, too, on top of your luggage. Latimer walks into the room and leans against the door frame, watching you, "So, what are you going to do?"

You glance over your shoulder at him, now sorting out how many towels you can afford to bring--deciding on two fluffy body towels and several face towels--and shrug, "I'll ask around to see if someone has space for me to stay for a little while, and if not, I'll save up the money I get from Black Hat, and eventually be able to get a new place... In the meantime, I guess we'll be slummin' it in the Walmart parking lot, buddy."

Latimer snorts and follows you into the bathroom where you begin to pack up your soaps and hair care products. You look over your hair dryer and give him a smirk before stuffing it, too, into a bag. "How many things do you think you can keep with you? The car is only so big." Latimer remarks.

Again, you sigh, feeling an itch in the inside of your thigh that turns to burning as your irritation mounts. Your head hurts and your mouth is dry. You could really use something to chew right about now. You lift your fingers up to your mouth, but stop short with a shake of your head, and finish stuffing your bag full of toiletries. You feel lucky that you don't have more things you need to bring--perks of living below minimum wage, you suppose. 

You take your bathroom bag and computer bag as well as several blankets and drag them out to the living room. You're about to go back for your clothing luggage, but find that Latimer had followed you with it, carrying the heavy item like it doesn't weigh a thing. You don't have enough time to contemplate him helping you, so instead you just say, "Thanks," and begin packing your water, food, and blessed salts into another bag. Like most people your age, you don't have much in the way of food--you usually go out to eat, or order in, but you do have at least a few bottles of cold water, an unopened bottle of wine, a stale chunk of bread, two apples, and a bag of chips that should last you until you run out of cash. You're probably going to have to talk to Black Hat about getting your first paycheck early, so you can maybe get a motel room and some food if no one has room for you...

Pulling out your phone, you swipe past Flug's message, and write, copy and paste the same text to several people you know who owe you a favor, and some who you think you're friendly enough with that might let you stay with them. You go back to the text Flug sent-- _"Sure, but what happened?"_ \--and are midway through typing your answer when he calls you.

You pick up, "Hey, Flug, I'm sorry I'm gonna be late, but--"

_"H-hi, I-"_ Flug gets cut off. There's a sound like the phone changes hands, and the voice that you hear next takes you off guard, _"Hello, dear assistant,"_ the title sounds mocking, and rough the way Black Hat says it. _"Am I to take your sudden absence as defiance against your contract, because **that** won't do."_

"Black Hat! I am..." you take a deep breath to compose yourself, your temples pounding, _fuck,_ why does your head hurt so badly, "Sorry, I recently found myself in some... housing troubles, and I need to deal with this before I can come into work today."

_"Housing troubles? Interesting,"_ he drawls, voice low and husky and _goddammit,_ why does he have to sound like that? Black Hat continues, _"You do realize you made a deal with me, and this deal is binding. I expect to see you here within the next twenty minutes, or else your position here at Black Hat Inc. will be terminated. I have no use for employees who cannot follow simple instructions."_

Your stomach drops, so does nearly your phone, "I-I don't think I can make it there in time, Black Hat," you start through the receiver, throat thick, "Give me thirty minutes, forty-five tops, and I'll be there. I promise."

Black Hat lets out a deep chuckle, _"Are you demanding me, or asking?"_

"Asking! I'm under a lot of stress, right now, and I just... I really need to get out of here before my landlord gets antsy and calls the cops." you hate to grovel like this, hate the way he's talking down to you like a child, or a...-a _pet_ , but you're not in the best position to be arguing with him. You really, _really_ need this job--now, more than ever.

_"I see, well, since you_ asked _so nicely, I suppose I can let this incident slide--just this once. However, when you do get here,_ thirty minutes _from now, you will come and see me before you attend to your duties with Dr. Flug... Assuming you can convince me to see reason as to why I should have an irresponsibly late scientist working on my company's projects."_

You inhale deeply, your headache abating, the itch at your thigh cooling, just slightly. "Yes, sir, of course. Thank you."

Black Hat's laugh is dark, _"So, you can be taught manners, human... Maybe I have use for you after all."_

The phone goes dead not a moment later.

 

\-   -   -

 

You and Latimer have just enough time to pack your bags into your car and give your apartment one last look over, before you're forced to drive to your place of employment with about ten minutes to spare. To your surprise, Latimer doesn't say a single word the entire drive over and barely even looks at you when you pull up in front of the mansion with about five minutes until you're supposed to meet Black Hat. Jumping out of your car, you pocket your keys and motion hurriedly for Latimer to pick up his step as he shuts the door.

"C'mon, I don't have that much time," You open the front of the gate, and, thankfully, no home protection system starts up in defense. Still Latimer doesn't make a move to follow you. "What are you doing?"

"I have some business to attend to in the city. I will meet you when we must, but until then-"

You grab Latimer's shoulder and frown, "What do you mean? Where are you going? Is it _him_?"

Latimer laughs and gently removes your hand off of his shoulder, "Of course not. I simply need sustenance. I will return within the next few hours. Do try not to get yourself killed. With two demons holding your soul, I must be present to take it, or else the Reaper will, and we both know how tedious that exchange will be."

"You think she's still mad about the last time?"

Shrugging, Latimer dusts of his shoulders, "More than likely, but it doesn't matter. She is bound just as I am to the rules of the underworld, but Black Hat's induction has shaken things to say the least."

"Right," you say suddenly remembering your arrangement. You thumb towards the mansion, "I gotta-"

"Go on, then. I will see you in some time." And then Latimer is gone, and you're turning on your heel and sprinting into the mansion and up the stairs.

You round the corner remembering the direction of Black Hat's office, only to run face first into a blue, fluffy wall. Immediately, you bounce off, and fall into someone's arms. You look up and back and see a wildly grinning red-headed woman in some sort of lizard hat beaming down at you.

"Uh, hi." You say, trying to regain your footing, but the woman's hold on your body keeps you from being able to stand upright. _She's pretty damn strong..._

"Helloooo," she practically sings, rocking you back and forth, giggling.

The sound of heavy footsteps in front of you brings your attention to the giant blue bear dressed in a... maid's costume approaching you. It _chuffs_ and makes a whining sound as its paw motions out to you and the woman. The yellow flower sticking out of the top of its head droops, and you think you must have taken hallucinogenics somehow, because this is not the kind of shit you just see in real life.

The woman laughs behind you, "Noooo, I want to meet our new guest!" The bear swipes at you both and the woman jumps back still holding your awkwardly sloping body to her own, "I want to meet her first! Haha! Wait your turn, 5.0.5."

The bear swipes at you both, again, although this time it gets her to let you go. You drop to the floor with an _"oomph"_ before the bear gingerly reaches down, paw opened outwards for you to take. You allow the bear to help you up and even brush you off. "Um, thank you." you say, looking between the bear--5.0.5., apparently?--and the woman who has since gotten on all fours and has started climbing the walls in an unnatural, kind of terrifying way. You can (mostly) deal with demons, but the whole crawling around like a goddamn spider? And she's fast, too? _No, thanks._

You begin to walk past the bear, but the woman appears in front of you, dangling, somehow, from the neon green length of her hair like Spiderman. "Who are you?" she asks, voice lilted, happy. When you give the woman your name, albeit a bit hesitantly, she drops from her hair, and onto her feet. The bear, 5.0.5., sighs and moves past you and the woman to begin dusting off the walls, mimicking the woman with non-words and grumpy sounds. She ignores 5.0.5. to grin at you excitedly, "I'm Demencia! You're the one working with Dr. Flug, riiight?"

You're about to respond, but stop when Demencia's smile drops and she jumps back several feet, knocking herself into 5.0.5. who looks down at her and then towards you, its eyes widening as it shakily takes a step back as well. You get the distinct impression you shouldn't turn around.

"So, you two are the reasons why the assistant is not where she is supposed to be." Black Hat's voice teeters indistinguishable, morphed and dark, and you remember how he had sounded before when he had tried threatening you, so you can guess what he looks like now. You turn around and are met with the large looming form of Black Hat, his eye dark, with only a pinprick of red, mouth open in a sharp-toothed and wide frown. You feel a chill run down your spine, but you don't find yourself feeling scared. You've seen worse.

You hear scampering behind you, and look to see the hallway is empty before Black Hat touches your shoulder and suddenly you're on your knees in front of his arm chair with your hands folded neatly in your lap and your jacket open. You're wearing a thin white crop top that rides dangerously low and loose on your chest, your typical comfy outfit that you probably should have changed out since yesterday, but you haven't had the time.

You shift, confused, moving to stand, but just as you do so, a hand smooths through your hair and grips it, pulling you forward in the same motion as Black Hat sits down in his arm chair. You yelp, forced onto your knees and between his, your fingers clutching his thighs as his hand in your hair keeps you still in front of him.

Black Hat grins down at you, and you can't help the pulse of heat that blooms low in your abdomen. "And here I thought you had attempted to go against your contract... Instead I find you introducing yourself to those two--how... irresponsible."

Gulping, you try to wet your mouth, because this all is suddenly very, _very_ inappropriate, but all you get is a spiraling ache as you lick your lips and Black Hat eyes the movement hungrily, "I-I didn't mean to go against the contract, but I just got kicked out of my apartment, and I needed to get my stuff and find a place to stay." This is a very weird conversation to be having, you realize, while on your knees with his hand in your hair, but Black Hat doesn't seem to mind, and apparently neither does your libido, because when he laughs that deep, devilish sound, you subconsciously press your thighs together to relieve the ache between them.

"Did you find a place to stay?" the hand in your hair lets go of your roots to run down the back of your head, his other hand poised in a loose fist to support his chin. You shake your head, but are stopped when Black Hat grabs the nape of your neck, thumb pressing dangerously against your windpipe, his eye narrows red. "You will speak when spoken to."

_Oh, wow..._ You lick your lips again, "I don't think I did."

"You 'don't think you did' what?" Black Hat's gaze is burning; your cheeks, the tips of your ears probably scalding red from his attention. 

"I don't think I found somewhere to stay." you reiterate, hoping that's what he was looking for, but when his grin falters you realize your mistake, but it's much too late. Your breath hitches when he presses down slightly on your windpipe, so you correct yourself, "S-sir! I don't think I found somewhere to stay, sir!" _Fuck,_ this is not how this should be going. You shouldn't be on your knees calling Black Hat 'sir', and you definitely shouldn't be enjoying it, but...

"Much better," he chuckles, thumb running down and allowing you to take a much more comfortable breath, "You disobeyed my very generous amendment to our contract, and apparently forgot your manners. Based on our arrangement, I should kill you and take your soul, but that would be a rather brash reaction to your first offense, don't you agree?"

Shit, can he kill you? Of course he can, but will he do it? Is he bullshitting you? You look Black Hat in his eye, and although he appears amused, you don't see any sort of hint that would lead you to believe he's joking. Besides, demon's don't usually joke about things like this, and you did make a contract. _Damn..._ you really should have read what was on it. Even though you're probably tiptoeing the edge of survival and an excruciatingly painful death, your voice sounds much more confident and even a bit sarcastic as you speak, "I'm sorry?" you try, and Black Hat's reaction is instantaneous.

He barks out a laugh, "'Sorry?' My little naive human assistant, I know you're sorry, but that doesn't change anything. You must still be punished for your transgressions, but, I'll make a deal with you," He pauses as if considering his next words and grins, "I'll consider keeping you and our arrangement in tact, if you can prove to me that you're as 'sorry' as you seem to believe you are."

You glance from Black Hat to his pants and then back up. Is he insinuating what you think he is..? No, he can't be, you're not even sure--does he even... how would that even work? "Are you saying-" In a blink, your torso is pressing against the bottom of the seat, your forearms resting on Black Hat's thighs as your fingers graze over the zipper of his slacks. It wriggles and your eyes widen. You look at Black Hat, "I-can this..?"

With a dramatic sigh, Black Hat leans back and rests his cheek against the knuckles of his hand, "If this is too complicated for you, we can always go the other route. I assure you, I will enjoy either interaction."

You frown, and feel whatever the fuck is in Black Hat's pants shifts against your fingertips, "You mean suck your dick or die? What kind of bullshit..."

Black Hat raises an eyebrow, grin only falling slightly, "Do you not want this?"

You blush, mind racing, because well, yeah, you do, but you've never been with a full-on demon before, and Black Hat is supposed to be your boss. This isn't going to be one of those one-night stand situations; if you actually go through with this, you're going to see him almost every day, you can't just leave. So, in other words, you can't fuck this up, and well, "I-I don't _not_ want this, but, how does this even work... do you-do you even have a dick?"

In a very human, very off-put way, Black Hat rolls his eye and moves to stand up, "I suppose I put too much faith in your abilities, human."

"No!" you almost shout, hands immediately gripping his thighs, "Just, I've never done anything like this before with a demon, give me a break."

Black Hat sighs, but sits back down, looking bored now, "I can't imagine it's any more different than what you would do with a human," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

You pout, a little annoyed at his blasé tone, but are otherwise determined to finish what you started, and maybe even wipe that irritating dull look off his face. "Fine." you state, and then sit up and begin undoing the button of his dress pants. Your jaw falls open at the sight that greets you, "Holy shit."

Black Hat scoffs, lips tilting in a smirk, finding sudden amusement in your shocked reaction, "More than you expected?" You tear your gaze away from his crotch and narrow your eyes at his entertained expression. Black Hat simply laughs, "Too much for you to handle, pet?"

You give Black Hat a challenging grin, "Not at all," and dip forward. You'll show him what's too much to handle, but it won't be you who'll be begging by the time you're done.


	5. Hasty Mistakes

Black Hat's "dick" is unlike anything you've ever had the displeasure of putting in your mouth. He feels like what you'd imagine the raw bottom half of an octopus would feel like, only instead of suction cups there are these strangely smooth ridges all along the sides of him. He's slippery and hot, and there's just so damn much of him that you're having a hard time trying to keep him from falling out of your mouth, but he can't. Stop. Wriggling. It doesn't help that all of him is thick, but somehow, you've managed to fit at least two of his... tentacles? inside of your mouth, the rest left writhing on either side of your puffed out cheeks where they occasionally press up against the sides of your face, leaving slick trails along your skin. The corners of your mouth already hurt by the second hot pull of your lips around him, your jaw cramping even though you just barely started, but when you look up at Black Hat in the same moment you take him back in, the tips of his tentacles pressing up against the roof of your mouth, you meet his eye and suddenly you're more unsure of whether you should stop or keep going. 

Black Hat's staring down at you with this sort of menacing grin, watching your movements intently; his rows of sharp green teeth exposed and gleaming. It's a little unnerving at first, because you can't really tell if he's enjoying himself or if he's just taking this opportunity to bask in your humiliation, but when you run your tongue along the underside of his tendrils, brushing up against where the ridges are, his grin falters and his eye narrows just shy of closing. You smirk as you continue bobbing your head up and down, watching the minute changes of Black Hat's expression before you catch the tip of one of his tendrils as it curls downwards, and grin around his length at the quiet growl he releases, his hands gripping the arms of his chair roughly.

You take a deep breath through your nose, trying to focus on not choking even though now he's moving so wildly inside your mouth that you're sure if he doesn't calm down soon, he'll brush past your gag reflex and send you choking as you suck him off.  However, before that can happen, you decide to pull back--one of your hands coming up to grasp near the base of his tentacles, lips closing around the ones inside your mouth as you suck hard all the way to the tip before he's falling out in one solid, struggling mass.

You swear you hear Black Hat murmur something under his breath, but when you look up all you see is his sinister glare, his grin turned into a grimace as he reaches a hand down to cup your jaw none too gently, "And just what do you think you're doing." he demands more than he asks, voice distorted and rumbling. He almost sounds out of breath, "If you're contemplating teasing me, I'd suggest you assess how quickly this scenario can turn."

The corner of your lips quirk in a small smirk as you gather as much of him as you can in your hand and stroke him upwards, watching as his body goes rigid, and the fingers he has pressing along your cheek drag up into your hair, gripping tightly at your roots. You tilt your head innocently before kissing the side of him your hand can't reach. Black Hat shudders beneath you, hips arching as his gloved fingers scratch at your scalp. The tendrils curve towards you as you suckle at him and once more pull back, a trail of something sticky and clear connecting your lips to him. When the string breaks, you lick your lips and give Black Hat a cheeky smile, enjoying the heated glare he sends your way as you continue to pump him, "I wasn't trying to tease you, but now that you mention it..."

Black Hat laughs lowly as he stares down at you, gently soothing your hair, although with the sinister look in his eye, the softness of his touch is anything but a caring gesture, "Is that challenge I hear in your voice, pet?" Black Hat grips your head and urges you forward, his tendrils straining as they free themselves from the confines of his pants fully, exposing several other charcoal colored abominations that you hadn't seen before. In total, if you had to guess, there were at least 6 tendrils, all writhing and slippery and huge. _Oh my god,_ how are you supposed to deal with all of that?

Tilting your chin up, Black Hat leers, "Remember who you're talking to."

It's almost comical how you gulp, mouth watering, but somehow still dry as you shift your thighs to press closer together; a shock of pleasure running through you at the sound of his voice and the promise behind it. Briefly, you think about how it'd feel is he was inside you, pushing up into you and forcing you to take every bit of him as he fucks you both to completion. As if reading your thoughts, Black Hat chuckles and releases your chin in favor of patting your cheek, "Up," he says simply, which garners a look of hesitation from you.

Sure, you're kinda wet, and sure, this isn't your first rodeo (even if it is, technically, your first with someone of Black Hat's _interesting_ characteristics), but you're only doing this to keep your job, remember? Black Hat's hot, most definitely, and in any other situation you'd probably ride him until you can't feel your goddamn legs, but today you have to draw the line at some point, right..?

When you don't immediately move, Black Hat sighs, and in less than a second you're straddling him with your hands tied with your jacket behind your back and your jeans gone, probably having disappeared somewhere into the ether. You look down at your bare legs and then up at Black Hat who just smirks at you, "If you would just listen to me, perhaps you would still have your pants," he says, one of his hands coming up to jerk the neckline of your top forward, pulling you in close and forcing you to fall into him for lack of availability of your hands, "I do hate using my power on such trivial matters, but you just don't seem to want to listen..." Black Hat's breath is hot against your ear as he laughs and then leans back to look you over, "We'll fix that."

If your face wasn't red before it definitely is, now. You rock in Black Hat's lap, attempting to free yourself from the knotted cloth of your jacket, but all that garners you is an amused grin as Black Hat's hands come up to grip your hips, pulling you closer until his tendrils press against your core through your panties. A tendril strokes up the center of you in one broad swipe, causing your breath to catch in your throat. When another moves down, the tip of it swirling around your nub through the cloth, you involuntarily buck your hips and let out a strangle whine.

Black Hat grins, moving your hips in time with his, rolling you against his thick tendrils and watching in delight as you shiver in his hold, "So responsive," he growls, low and dark, allowing his tentacles to slide between your lower lips, expertly drawing out moans from your throat as you arch into him, biting your lip. Heat gathers in the pit of your stomach as you meet Black Hat's eye, your own half-lidded as you try to form enough coherent thought to say something-- _anything,_ but when two of his tendrils grasp your thighs to open you wider while the others tease you through your panties, pressing hot and wet through the soaked cloth and catching your nub with every upstroke, all you can manage is a muffled moan as you close your eyes and focus on the pleasure.

Pinching your side, Black Hat bucks his hips harder, jostling you enough for you to open your eyes. The hand that isn't holding your hip steady against his tendrils smooths up your back, beneath the fold of your arms and the tied jacket keeping them together. He presses against the center of your back to move you closer until you're less than an inch away from his face, unable to look away even as his tendrils at your core pull your panties to the side and begin to stroke your sex more openly. You whimper, breath coming out in pants as Black Hat laughs, "You're so wet, little human," he leans forward and presses his lips against the underside of your jawline, not to kiss, but to lick and work a dark bruise along the skin, marking you high on your neck.

"Is this how you show you're sorry, how badly you want to live?" Black Hat presses his tendrils hard on your clit as he rolls you against him, "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

You moan, brows furrowing as you try to think of something clever to say, but with the way he's dragging himself along your heat, igniting a deep, overbearing ache inside you, you can't form the words well enough for them to make sense, "I...- _oh, god,_ " you shudder, clenching desperately as the tendrils below you run up and down the length of your sex.

Black Hat makes a pleased sound in the back of his throat, pulling you down harder against him as he works you to that edge, "Are you close, my pet?" He stares at you, running his forked tongue across the pointed tips of his teeth, hungrily watching you with a shadowy look in his eye.

A bolt of pleasure runs through you as a tendril comes up to stroke at your clit, coiling a hot, agonizing pulse between your legs. "I-I'm... _yes..._ " you moan, now rocking your hips of your own accord, building that ache higher and higher, so desperately chasing that fall that you find yourself right at the edge-

"Good," Black Hat says, and before you can even register what's happening, Black Hat's tentacles retreat from your sex, pulling your panties back in place as he catches your undulating hips with both his hands and drags you away until you're whining and groaning, a furious expression crossing your features when he lifts you up and walks you over to the two chairs in front of his desk. Black Hat drops you in a chair and walks back to his arm chair to sit down. You struggle in the seat, arms still tied behind your back, panties sopping wet as you're slowly fall from that high until it settles into an unsatisfying thrum. Black Hat smirks at your glare.

You shake in your seat, trying to loosen the jacket around your arms, but all you do is twist your shoulder in an uncomfortable fashion that has the muscles in your back aching. "What the hell is your problem?!" you shout, "I was going to-"

"Oh, I know, assistant," Black Hat remarks mildly, "That's why I stopped." You stare at him, taken aback, but before you can attempt to struggle again, Black Hat is suddenly in front of you with his hand holding your chin up and forward, forcing you to stare up at him helplessly, "Did you really think I was going to allow you to fall apart after the insubordination you've displayed, today?"

You don't respond, choosing to instead defiantly glower at him, your lips thinned in a scowl. Black Hat's grin is mean as he roughly lets go of your chin, and leans against the edge of his desk casually. You chew your cheek, biting back the insults you want to hurl at him.

"Tell me," Black Hat says, voice tinged in humor as he observes you coolly, "How many demons have fondled your soul?"

Your eyebrows shoot up, offense overriding your common sense as you look up at Black Hat aggressively, " _Excuse me?_ "

"Yes, _excuse you_ ," Black Hat sneers, "Something of which I've attempted to do, and yet, you continue to tempt me towards unsavory outcomes of which we both know will be messy." With a tilt of his head, Black Hat curls his lips in a contemptuous smile, "You lied to me, assistant. Earlier, when you said you had never been taken by a demon, that was a lie, was it not?"

You think you know what he's talking about, but-"That was different!" you shout, trying to push the memory down as you focus your best glare at Black Hat, "How do you even know about that?!" and then, once you've calmed down slightly, "Why does it even matter? Are you one of those freaks that only wants to sleep with women who haven't been 'deflowered'?"

Black Hat regards you curiously before letting out a rich, warped laugh, "Of course not. I don't care whether you've experienced pleasure before, but this particular demon-" Black Hat leans forward to smell you, "I can still smell his attempted claim on your soul, but he didn't succeed, did he?"

You blanch, swallowing hard as you try not to think about that night. You squirm and once more pull at your bindings, "Obviously, not," you bite, "Or I wouldn't fucking be here, now would I?"

Black Hat lifts your chin up with the side of his index finger, "Tone," he chides, before dropping his hand and reaching into his breast pocket to pull out your rolled up contract, "Now, in light of this new complication, it seems our agreement isn't as strong as I had previously thought it to be. Between the three of us, only one currently holds the most claim over your soul, and that will not do."

You raise a brow as Black Hat stands to his full height and leans over you, hands coming up to cage you against the chair. You lean as far back as you can, worry etching your features, "I don't really know what you think you're doing, but whatever it is, it isn't a good idea-"

Black Hat takes your jaw between his thumb and forefinger and grins, "Don't worry, human, this will only take a moment, and if you're good, we can continue where we left off," he drags his thumb down to run along your bottom lip roughly, possessively.

You swallow, "I really don't think this is a good idea-"

"Don't worry," Black Hat coos, although his tone of voice suggests you almost definitely should, "I'll be gentle," he grins, "Mostly."

"Black Hat-" you start, only to jump back in your seat in the same moment his body opens up into a horrible fleshy execration and lunges at you. There's meat and teeth and gaping holes of black, and with Black Hat's leap towards you, all of him presses against you, momentum and force pushing you into the chair until it topples backwards, and hits the floor with a clatter.

Somehow parts of him grip and pull at your jaw, tugging downwards until you can't help but open your mouth. And then, he's crawling into you--down your throat, making you gag and struggle, bucking and tossing, tears rolling down your cheeks as he slides sickly into your body until he's all the way inside of you, burning you from the inside out like acid eating away at your guts, your head pounding. You sit up, and bend at the waist shuddering and gagging, spitting mouthfuls of a black tarry substance, that tastes vaguely of wood smoke and blood out onto the carpet. You heave, attempting to throw up as you begin to feel nauseous and dizzy, the inside of your thigh burning like a brand of fire.

You clench your thighs, feeling the raised outline of scars shaped in a broken symbol blaze, fiery, your other leg rubbing at the scars in a vain attempt to soothe the pain. They're hot, boiling, and it feels as if they're moving as Black Hat attempts to gain control over your body. You can't remember if it felt like this when Latimer first possessed you, if there had ever been a change in the way he played passenger to your driver, but you're pretty sure this is the first time it has hurt this badly since it was carved into you the second time.

Falling on your back, you arch and struggle, hands clenching and unclenching behind your back as you let out a series of uneven laughs, "You-y-you stupid... hat wearing... b-bastard," you gasp out, and as soon as the pain begins to abate, Black Hat crawls his way out of you, through your esophagus, and pries open your jaw until he falls out and reforms into his usual dapper looking self.

Your head throbs at the suddenness of it all, your body weak as you lay flat on the ground on top of your arms like a limp slab of steak. Black Hat grabs you by the arm, and you try to jerk out of his grasp, but he's stronger than you on your best day, and right now, all of you feels raw and sort of violated in a way you've only experienced once before in your life, bringing up bad memories on how you got caught up in this demonic bullshit in the first place.

Dragging you, Black Hat thrusts you up against a wall, practically rattling your brain inside your skull as he growls at you, teeth uncomfortably close to ripping into your face, "What is this curse you put upon your body?!"

You look up at him, bleary eyed and exhausted, something inside you crumbling as shockwaves of pain roll through you until they dull. Black Hat shakes you, and you struggle slightly in his hold, "I tried telling you this was a really, really bad idea."

Black Hat picks you up from the wall and slams you back against it, "You idiot!" His hand comes up to grab your throat, choking you hard until lights dance in your vision, your face going hot. You reflexively attempt to reach up in order to free yourself, but your hands are still tied. Black Hat leans in, teeth right beside your ear, "I should just kill you right now and end your pitiful existence, you disgusting creature."

You cough, kicking your legs out, trying desperately to get him to let go of you before he chokes you to death, but you feel weaker now that he has possessed your soul and--albeit, accidentally--formed a permanent bond, debilitating you for the moment. When Latimer had done so the first time, you had passed out, and it seems like you may do so again, but for a different reason. Your vision darkens from the outside in, and once more, Black Hat reels you back, and you think for a second he's going to slam your head against the wall, again, but instead, he loosens his grip and allows you to take a gasping breath, your chest burning.

Lights dance in your eyes as you focus in on him, an almost unfamiliar inkling of terror creeping up your spine. Black Hat drops you to the floor before regarding you with a disapproving grimace, "Get out."

You try to move, but your energy is drained. You feel your clothes right themselves, your pants finding their way on your hips, your jacket untying itself and being zipped up over your torso, but even as you try to sit up, now free hands gripping the floor, you can't. Black Hat stomps over to you, leans down, and hauls you up by your arm, his hold bruising, "I said, get. Out."

You want to leave--you really do. You want Black Hat to let go of you, more than anything, because, right now, you can't stand to be around him, but your head is pounding, and as much as you try to fight it, exhaustion and stress pull your eyelids closed. The last thing you see is Black Hat's infuriated glare before you pass out, and, all at once, the term "asshole boss" seems just a little too nice for the type of demon Black Hat has revealed himself to be.


	6. Business--It's None of Yours

The headache you have is tremendous, but it's practically nothing compared to the stiffness in your neck. You groan as you sit up, palms sliding against firm, glossy cushions as you attempt to right yourself while the room spins. It takes a few moments, but when you're finally settled enough to look around, you find that you're in a room unfamiliar to you--a bedroom, to be exact--and lying on a fancy loveseat just across from a lavishly styled bed. Almost everything is themed black and red with the occasional gold accent to cut through the Victorian Gothic design.

You shift, feeling uneasy and a little more than pissed off when you spot Black Hat lounging in the far corner of the room in an armchair by a tall bookshelf. One dark colored book is spread open in one of his hands as he casually flips through it, not at all noticing--or, more likely, not caring--that you're awake. Black Hat's dressed comfortably with his tie loosened and his signature black coat missing, exposing his grey vest and blood red dress shirt. His hat, of course, is still perfectly set in place, but otherwise, he's resigned himself to comfort. You'd be lying if you said the almost innocent casualness he's displaying doesn't do something for you, but you hate yourself all the same for still, somehow, finding him attractive.

To combat your intrusive and definitely unwanted thoughts, you glare and open your mouth to say something rude and possibly unnecessary, but your throat constricts painfully enough that you choke on a breath and reel back, one hand coming up to run your fingers down your throat where bruises are sure to have formed. _Bastard..._ you think, and you just might be feeling reckless enough to get up and choke Black Hat in revenge, but as you move, a heavy, silky cloak falls off of your shoulders and pools at the small of your back.

Raising a brow, you take your eyes off of Black Hat just long enough to retrieve the item that had fallen off of you. Your shock is palpable. You look up at Black Hat and find that he has closed his book to observe you. When your eyes meet, his once calm expression deforms into his typical malicious grin. Your hands clench his coat with the urge to throw it at him, nails biting into the fabric with intent to prick marks into the more than likely expensive cloth.

When Black Hat stands, your anger passes into cool, irritated suspicion with a hint of anxiety. You don't fear him, of course--especially not now, considering your currently shared and unfortunate situation--, but you definitely don't want him to touch you, not after what he did. So, standing, you keep a firm hold of Black Hat's coat, and attempt to maintain eye contact with him--as if that alone would keep him in place--as you inch your way to the door beside you. You've barely stepped a foot away from the loveseat before Black Hat's standing in front of you, blocking your path.

You don't flinch, already used to Latimer reappearing and disappearing as he saw fit, but you do notice a spike in your panic when Black Hat takes a step forward, forcing you to take one back in order to preserve some semblance of distance. You stare at him, brows furrowed, fists clenched, readying yourself for anything, because goddammit you're not scared, but there exists the very real idea that Black Hat may not kill you to preserve his own interests, but he can surely hurt you without experiencing any consequences, and you're not exactly a fiend for pain.

He takes another step forward, still smiling, and it's so unnerving, that you don't notice how close you are to the loveseat until the backs of your knees collide with the edge and send you toppling backwards. You expect to fall, you expect to trip flat on your ass, drop Black Hat's coat, and probably sport a new kind of bruise in repercussion for holding his coat hostage and subsequently letting it fall, because Black Hat seems to be that kind of petty, but instead what you get are hands--his hands grasping your waist, his coat pressed between your body and his to keep it from falling when your hands opened up to press flat against his chest in reflex.

It's a surprise that he's so gentle as he holds you, as is the strange pleasantness of his touch although your mind screams that you should be disgusted, because he literally choked you, but where his hands are pressed your skin seems to buzz beneath your clothes, and that... that just won't fucking do. You push against Black Hat, attempting to force him to release you from his grip, but all you succeed in is getting him to hold you tighter. You swallow, throat aching, "Let go of me." You state. A simple, succinct demand--no need for backtalk or an attempt at witty banter, but even in the very short, short amount of time you've gotten to know Black Hat, you realize he won't pass up an opportunity to be an asshole in every conceivable way.

"That doesn't sound like the tone of a thankful assistant," he practically coos, smug and very much in the key of 'I know something you don't', but you don't particularly care for his games, so you simply push at him, glaring, but not quite meeting his eyes. One of his hands on your waist smooths up your back and around your front to tilt your head up and look at him. However, the moment his thumb touches your chin, you thrash and push away from him, trying hard to get away, only for Black Hat to laugh. If you would have been in a better frame of mind, you might have asked what he was laughing at, but, as you are, you instead find out through experience.

On your fifth push against his chest, it gives out-- _he_ gives out. Black Hat's once solid body caves in, but only where your hands were pressed, and it's only until you've fallen so far into him that you're practically elbow deep that his skin closes around your arms. You squeak, and immediately try to tumble backwards, but you're stuck. Black Hat's skin and tissue seem to seal your arms inside of him, leaving you immobile, confused, and very distraught. "What the hell? What the fuck?!" you shout-whisper, voice gravelly as you twist and pull, but to no avail. You look at Black Hat, eyes wide.

Black Hat smirks, triumphant and shit-eating, "Now that I have your attention-" something wet runs across your knuckles, sending you squealing.

"What in the actual hell _and_ FUCK?!" You screech, doubling your struggle; wriggling and pushing, thrusting and kneeing. Your panicked movements are so wild that Black Hat has to dodge when your leg slides up just a bit too close to his crotch. Again, the wet thing slides along your hands, between your fingers until you're whining, freaking the hell out and bordering on delirious as several thoughts--all unpleasant--on what could be touching you invades your mind, "No, no, no, no, no--fuck no! Not today, Satan!" you scream, throat seizing in pain, "Not today!"

You stamp your feet and accidentally catch Black Hat's toe when he miscalculates a dodge, and you guess that must have been his tipping point, because suddenly you're on your back on the lovesest with more than 6 feet of demon looming over you, red-eyed and dripping green drool from large, sharp teeth. His body has morphed, mouths and eyes and twisted flesh marring his torso and shoulders, and finally you realize what has you by the arms. _It's a fucking mouth._ You blanch, staring, not in horror, but in outrage and mild disgust. Suddenly the wet thing rolling against your fingertips makes a whole lot more sense. You shiver.

Black Hat grumbles, voice taking on an even more supernatural edge as he speaks, _"Pay attention,"_ he bellows, but your eyes are trained on the multitude of teeth and horns and tentacles and eyes protruding out of his body. You're fascinated, grossed out, annoyed, but overall, you kind of just want to wash your hands. Suddenly, something sharp pricks at your forearms, and your eyes shoot up to look at Black Hat. He grins down at you, "Oh, sorry, do you need those?"

"You wouldn't," you manage to rasp, and perhaps it's your bad for using such a horrible choice of words, because then what you can only guess are teeth press down and slice through your arms, and all you can register is a very deliberate and slow pain. You grunt, shaking against Black Hat as you spew several profanities before finally settling down as the teeth rest, not fully having chomped through, but bitten down well enough that you can feel the blood running down to your wrists from the puncture wounds the teeth cut into you. The tongue slithers up your limbs, twining and licking where you're bleeding. Briefly, you wonder if your tetanus shot is up to date as you glare up at Black Hat, panting, "You fucking sadistic dickwad!"

The teeth shift, almost like they're about to press all the way through, and you swear you see stars when one just barely grazes a bone, but then they stop, still stuck in your flesh, but no longer biting down, just resting. You're not sure when you started sweating, but you're hot and your arms are aching and pulsing and your head is absolutely throbbing. Black Hat lifts the hand that isn't supporting him over you to tilt your chin, and you may have fought him, again, if you were feeling half like your self, but there's this feeling nagging in the back of your brain, sort of like a dulled kind of dread that's found a way to cling to the forefront of your mind. The nagging reminds you you've been through worse, and, if anything, that just makes this whole situation even more depressing.

"Are you going to stop whining, assistant, or do you truly want to lose your hands?" Black Hat's tone is severe, unamused, and testing, but his grin remains wide and distorted. You grit your teeth to keep from saying what's on your mind, because you don't really know what Black Hat's capable of. You've heard of hints of who he is from Latimer and Flug, but you were always so caught up in your own bullshit that you never really paid attention. There's an edge to his voice, however, that tells you that you shouldn't try him, at least for right now, just in case he actually will bite your hands off.

Seeing you acquiesce, Black Hat's body reshapes itself into his more presentable, less monstrous form and allows your arms to slide of out of his chest mouth. The tongue gives your wounds a final lick just as your arms fall out of his body. The wetness clinging to your arms feels cool in the air of the bedroom, but your arms are still bleeding, although, slightly less so, dripping rivulets of thickened blood onto your front.

Lifting himself up, Black Hat straightens his clothes and puts back on his coat before reaching down and gripping one of your bloodied arms to pull you up as well. When you're standing, he grasps both of your arms and examines them curiously. Perfectly aligned bite marks encircle your forearms. Some of the marks have stopped bleeding completely, while others dribble, messy and wet. Even though they look like they should hurt, they don't--not exactly. The wounds throb, feeling warm and glossy, but there's no real distinct pain until Black Hat presses a gloved thumb against one of the bleeding bite marks, roughly digging into the cut, smearing your blood along your skin.

"What's your problem?!" you growl, jerking in Black Hat's grasp as you watch him deliberately lick the pad of his thumb, your blood collecting red across his tongue, "You're disgusting," you mumble finally managing to pull yourself out of his grip.

The smirk Black Hat gives you is devious, and you want to deny that you're at all affected by it, but before you can say anything, someone pounds on the door. The sound makes you jump, causing Black Hat to laugh.

There's more door pounding until you hear a muffled shout through the wood, "The witch wasn't there, but I retrieved your stupid items, Black Hat! Let me in!"

Black Hat looks at you, "Seems your pet is useful for something after all." he says, approaching the door and opening it mid-way through Latimer's knocking. The demon falls through the door, stumbling, and almost falling onto his face with the momentum of his missed knock. After righting himself, Latimer growls at Black Hat before dropping several items he had been cradling onto the ground. He glances at you and then to Black Hat, "I-" he stops and returns his gaze to you--more specifically, your blood streaked and bitten arms.

"Uh..." you start, "I-"

Immediately, Latimer pushes Black Hat up against the door, one forearm pressed up underneath Black Hat's chin as Latimer bites out, "I thought you said you were going to protect her?"

Black Hat's grin doesn't even falter, even as he pushes Latimer away, seemingly barely putting any effort into tossing the demon back. Latimer stumbles, and glares at Black Hat as said demon straights his tie and hat, "I did. Those marks on her arms? Those were from me."

Slowly, Black Hat approaches Latimer, an air of arrogance and danger all rolled into one falling off of him in waves. Latimer, however, is unfazed--annoyed, even, as he stares Black Hat down, "Why? What do you stand to gain by injuring her?"

Black Hat laughs, "I don't stand to 'gain' anything," he tilts his head, one brow raised, "How can I gain what is already mine?" at Latimer's seemingly stunned silence, Black Hat pushes past him to stand in front of you, "Your pet and I are going to have a little conversation, so, why don't you go meet Flug in the laboratory and get him to fix you up." he pauses to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, grinning at your confused, angry expression, "After all, can't have my newest little toy catching an infection, can we?"

You open your mouth to say something, but are cut off when the sound of a piercing shriek cuts through the room. You look from Latimer to Black Hat to a small moving burlap sack where the shrieking seems to be coming from and roll your eyes, "Whatever," and exit the room. Closing the door behind yourself, you put one of your last cigarettes between your teeth and light it as you stroll down to the lab, smoke trailing lazily behind you as you exhale and try your best to ignore the shaking in your fingertips.

 

\- - -

 

When you arrive in the lab, you've already stubbed out your cigarette on the way in and tossed it in the trash. Upon noticing your appearance Flug does a double-take, drops everything he's doing, and immediately rushes over to the nearest sink to wash off his gloves, "I'll-I'll be right there to help y-you out, just-" he grumbles lowly to himself when water splashes onto his front, "Hold on."

You raise a brow at the doctor, before a vibration from your cellphone takes away your attention. While Flug is still fussing, you sit down at the counter he had previously designated as your work space and pull out your cell phone, ignoring the slight twinge of pain at the way your now dried blood pulls at your wounds as you review your texts:

 

**SENT**   _Yesterday @ 11:45 A.M. --_

**GROUP MESSAGE** to _Seth, Miri, Derkeith, Sam, Amanda, Carter... & 13 others_

>> Hey guys, landlord kicked me out, need a place to stay for a few weeks so I can get my shit together

CARTER: that sux, but i cant rn

CARTER: dealing w psycho roommate mayb next month ??

MICK: WTF Carter?! I'm your only roommate and we have a free room

CARTER: oh shit lmao

CARTER: didnt realize u were in this chat

AMANDA: ... lol

MICK: You're an asshole

AMANDA: me?? wth did I do???

MICK: No, Carter

AMANDA: ooohhh k :P

MICK: But maybe you too, because you still owe me 20 from when i bought you weed last month

_Amanda_   _left the group chat_

CARTER: lmao 

MICK: She's so dumb. I have her number on my phone

_Mick added Amanda_   _to the group chat_

MICK: I know where you live, Amanda

MICK: Just pay me back

AMANDA: why u gotta put me on blast in the group chat??? tf? i was gonna text u privately!!! >:(

MICK: I don't know, maybe to make sure no one else buys you weed, because you're never gonna pay them back

CARTER: lmao see what i mean by crazy roommate manda ??

AMANDA: fr -___-

MICK: Fuck you both

 

_Yesterday @ 4:00 P.M._ \--

_Today @ 10:45 A.M._

 

MIRI: Hey, sorry for late reply, babe

MIRI: Problems with marc & jess that I'll tell you about later

MIRI: If you still need a place to stay, you can sleep on the couch for the next week-ish since we don't have any extra rooms

_Seth, Tami, Hook up #1, and Sis are typing..._

 

You're halfway through typing a reply to tell Miri thanks, and to probably ask if she's still smoking or if her partners made her quit, but then Flug dabs something astringent and burning along your wounds that has you hissing. You turn to Flug who's now standing next to you with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a damp gauze pad smeared pink from your blood. He shrugs and moves forward slowly, as if asking for permission, "Sorry, but I really need to disinfect these..."

You phone buzzes in your hands, but you ignore it in favor of giving Flug a reassuring smile, "Thanks."

You can't really tell through the paper bag, but you hope he's not frowning. You watch him clean off your wounds, wiping the blood and whatever else Black Hat had coated your arms in before Flug applies a cloudy gel of disinfectant on your cuts, "I don't think you'll need stitches, but some of these might scar," Flug heaves a sigh, glancing between your arm and your face before finally settling back on your injury. Carefully, he wraps your arm before tucking the sanitary bandage in. He moves around behind you to tend to your other arm, so eerily quiet that you can hear the quiet hum of various machinery around the lab.

Several more times, your phone vibrates, so you figure you might as well check them while Flug is helping fix you up:

 

SIS: Who are you people

TAMI: Same IDK who half of the ppl in this chat are lol...

HOOK UP #1: If you need 2 stay somewhere u can always stay w me

HOOK UP #1: But i only have 1 bedroom so well have 2 share ;) ;P

SIS: Ugh

SIS: Who invited the fuckboy to the group chat

SETH: LOL

MIRI: Oh so now you guys want to respond after I offer an invite?

TAMI: I just turned my phone on...

MIRI: Bullshit

SETH: Wow

MIRI: You too Seth

MIRI: Where have you been?

SETH: I have no excuses, but you dont have to be so angry miri damm

MIRI: Shut the hell up

_Seth and Tami are typing..._

 

You smile:

 

>>Lol thanks, Miri. Yeah, idc if I have to sleep on the couch. Better than in the car.

MIRI: You'll always have a place to stay with me, even if Marc hates your guts lol

>>Yeah, whats up with that? Also, you mind if Latimer comes with?

MIRI: Oh, shit, right. Yeah, it's no problem

SIS: Who's Latimer

SETH: The fuck kinda name is latimer???

SETH: Is that the guy that follows you around all the time? Is he your boyfriend?? SPILL THE TEA 0__0

_Hook Up #1 is typing..._

MIRI: If she hasn't told y'all, apparently he's none of your business

_Hook Up #1, Sis, Seth, and Carter are typing..._

 

You exit out of the group chat, ignoring the sudden onslaught of messages, and start a new chat with Miri:

 

>>Hey, so what's up with Marc and Jess? You guys get into a fight for something?

MIRI: No... Sort of. It's a long story that I don't really wanna type out

MIRI: I'm off at 6, you wanna get dinner?

MIRI: You can drop your bags off at the condo first too if you want, so you don't have to unpack all your shit when we come back

>>Yeah, that actually sounds good.

>>I'm broke asf tho, and I don't get my paycheck until probably next week.

MIRI: You got a new job and didn't tell me!!?

MIRI: I mean congrats but also wtf?? Where?

 

"All done," Flug says, finishing tucking in your bandage. You look down at your arms all neatly wrapped and clean, and realize your jacket is just about ruined from all the blood and the rips through the fabric. You nod at Flug with a short "thanks" before shrugging off your jacket, and walking it over to the trash. After dumping the item, you go back to texting Miri:

 

>>I'll tell you when we meet up. Somewhere cheap please.

MIRI: No, shut up! We're going to celebrate!!

MIRI: I'll pay, babe. I'm taking you to that one restaurant down on 1st

>>The Italian place?

MIRI: Yeah! I always wanted to try it, and I hear it has really good linguini :)

>>Ok, sounds good. Thanks, Miri.

MIRI: Always. We'll meet at my place, there should be a place for you to park on the street

>>Ok, bye!

 

After you tuck your phone back into your pocket, you notice Flug is staring at you, shoulders squared as if he's nervous. You frown, "Uh, what?" only to feel someone grab your waist from behind as a hand slips into your pocket and pulls out your cellphone. You look back to see Black Hat with your phone, malevolent grin in place while he glances you over and pockets it.

"Hey, what-" you pause to cough, throat still painfully raw, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

Flug stutters your name, worried even though he's so obviously frightened, but you ignore him in favor of reaching for Black Hat's pocket. Your wrist is caught before you can even slip a finger into his coat as he pulls your hand up until your elbows bend and are pushed up against your chest, "What part of me taking your cellphone means you had permission to retrieve it back?"

You frown, "I don't need your permission, I paid for the service and I paid for the phone-"

"And yet you're on company time texting-" Black Hat pulls out your phone glances over a name before shooting you a look that is both parts amused and annoyed, "'Hook Up #1?"

"I'm an adult!" You shout, face getting hot, because you really shouldn't have to say it, but your personal life is none of his business! Especially considering you had _his_ business stuffed almost all the way down your throat yesterday, and then he fucking choked you! At least Hook Up #1--James? Darrel? _Whatever_ \--didn't choke you half to death after making sure you didn't get off!

Black Hat rolls his eyes and places your phone back into his pocket, "While that may be true, it seems our original arrangement has changed," Black Hat takes a full step up to you until the tips of your toes are touching and you have to tilt your head back to look up at him. Black Hat sneers, "Tell me, have you learned any manners since our talk yesterday, or need I remind you of your minuscule, _replaceable_ position in this company?"

"Black Hat, s-sir!" Flug blurts out, suddenly scurrying up to grab your shoulders and pull you away, only for Black Hat to snap and growl at him. Flug lets out a less than dignified yelp, but doesn't let you go until there's a healthy space between you and Black Hat, "I-She is injured, sir, and we-we're already behind schedule as it is! Our client--the synthetic one--is due for a fitting a few days from now, and we really--"

Waving Flug off, Black Hat turns on his heel, "Then get to it, Doctor," just before he exits the lab, however, he turns to look at you, "Assistant, you can retrieve your phone from my office after your hours are up, so we can discuss the repercussions of texting during company time and talking back. Hopefully, by then, you'll have found your manners, otherwise," Black Hat tilts his head, grin widening just the slightest bit, "I'll be sure to remind you of them."

Your brows furrow, face hot at both the condescension and implication of his words, "Excuse me-?!!" Flug muffles your protest with a gloved hand and waits for Black Hat to leave before he releases his grip. You cough and wipe the rubber smell off of your face as you send Flug an aggravated _'what's-your-deal'_ kind of look.

"Sorry," he says, "For everything."

"What are you talking about?"

"I-" Flug starts, rethinks his statement, then returns to tinkering on whatever it was he was doing before you showed up, "The deadline for the fitting is two days from now... can we just..."

You look at him, before rubbing the back of your neck, because you can guess what he's referring to, but you can't say anything that makes the situation better. It's not like he could have known that Black Hat would be this abusive towards you. Flug had mentioned his boss's tendencies, but the responsibility remained on you for accepting the job and ending up getting more than you asked for. At least Latimer isn't around to rub your bad karma in your face...

As you set to work, you think back to the "talk" Black Hat had mentioned he was going to have with your demon counterpart and hope, for some crazy reason, that Latimer's ok.


	7. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 03/28 - edited b/c holy fucking shit. revamped the ending, i'm just ugh... yea, that happened. um, probably will update sometime

As the afternoon continues, it seems like there's no end to your shitty luck. Everything you do, you somehow do wrong, and because of the nature of your project, there isn't exactly an efficient way to counteract your mistakes other than restarting the entire process over. Building artificial skin isn't exactly an easy feat even with your biological expertise and the notes Dr. Flug had provided you to start with. The process happens to be extremely delicate - one bad move or contaminated dish, and the chemicals you're testing could explode, or, even worse, not cause a reaction at all.

It's during one of your more successful trials that the lab doors burst open. 5.0.5. is the first to run in, fearfully looking over his shoulder as he trips over his feet, knocking over beakers and tools as he runs past you to hide behind Flug. Carefully, you turn from your project to glance over at the two, watching as 5.0.5. shakes fearfully, murmuring something incoherent as Flug tries to calm him down. You watch for a few more moments, holding very carefully onto the eyedropper you've been using to administer a compound to the solidifying skin structure, before turning back to your work.

It's just as you're about to drip one more droplet of the chemical into the dish that Demencia, too, barrels into the lab dressed in a poorly made Black Hat costume, screaming and waving her arms around causing 5.0.5. to let out a sudden fearful roar. The noise reflexively makes you jump and accidentally fling the eye dropper, which knocks over a beaker and spills chemicals all over your notes and the petri dish containing the almost solidified skin sample. Your notes immediately become unrecognizable as the liquid eats through the ink and paper. The artificial skin fares worse, fizzling and popping before melting into an ooze of pinkish, translucent sludge. 

You feel your eye twitch as you watch hours of experimentation liquefy right in front of you. In the background, you hear 5.0.5. sprinting around the lab with Demencia hot on his trail. Flug joins in with them, yelling through her screaming in an attempt to get her to stop scaring the poor bear-thing. You barely hear them, despite the noise, too busy letting what just happened sink in as you slump onto your stool and cover your face in defeat.

After a few moments of your quiet seething, you feel a hand fall on your shoulder. Assuming it's Flug, you try to shrug it off, but the hand simply moves with you. You decide to ignore it in favor of continuing your sulking before it skims down your arm to fall at the curve of your hip. You uncover your face and look at the spot where the hand should be only to find air. You turn and see Flug a few yards away with his arms crossed over his chest. He's standing between Demencia and a cowering 5.0.5. while giving Demencia a speech of some sort, even though she doesn't seem like she's listening. None of them are close enough to have touched you. In fact, they don't even seem to notice you're still in the lab, too absorbed in their confrontation to pay you any mind.

Your brows furrow as you feel the invisible hand stroke from your hip to the plane of your stomach, large fingers spread wide before running up to cup just beneath your breast, smooth cold leather slipping under your bra to grasp your breast. The cloth of your shirt seems unperturbed by the intrusion, but the feeling is so real. You choke when the leather clad fingers pinch your nipple and try to grab the hand, but all you do is end up groping yourself.

The hand squeezes your breast, sending a shock of pleasure down your spine. You roll your hips in your seat involuntarily as you stare down at your chest, confused, while another hand falls on your hip, fingers dipping between the waist of your jeans to play at the tops of your panties. You wriggle, twisting away, trying to escape the hands until a dark laugh rumbles behind you, so close to your ear that you jump out of your seat and trip over yourself, accidentally knocking over your stool in the process.

At the sound of the clatter, Flug and Demencia turn to look at you. Even 5.0.5. manages to gather enough courage to peek up from under his paws. You swallow, eyes wide as you try to get a hold of yourself, "S-" you clear your throat, "Sorry," your throat still hurts from the previous abuse, twinging in pain when you try to swallow. When the three return to what they were discussing - or, rather, what Flug was scolding Demencia over - you lean down and pick the stool up. Two hands grasp your hips while something large and solid slides up between your thighs. It rolls against you, and instinctively, you clench your thighs shut and sit up, back straightening as hot breath dances over the skin of your neck.

_"What's wrong, assistant..?"_ the voice murmurs, _"Can't handle a little distraction?"_

You grit your teeth, recognizing your tormentor almost immediately, "Black Hat," you bite, low and quiet, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Black Hat laughs and nips the side of your neck. The hand on your hip digs into your skin as he pulls you along whatever it is between your thighs. The pressure is dull, barely shifting your already damp panties across your sex, but its enough pleasure that you can feel your inner walls pulsing. Black Hat slips a hand down your jeans, his fingers finding your nub and rubbing circles into the sensitive against it. You press a closed fist to your mouth, stifling a gasp as you're made to follow his movements and begin rocking slowly along the thickness between your thighs and the gentle movement of his hand. You're sure if anyone saw you, they'd think you were humping the air.

"Black Hat," you whisper, trying to hide the sudden breathiness of your voice, "What are you doing-"

"Only what I should have before your pet came and ruined my fun, my dear." you feel his tongue run along your skin, making you shudder, "You tasted so good, assistant." he says, his free hand slipping from your breast to gently take hold of your hand and moving it away from your mouth. He pulls your arm down, hand slipping up to grasp the bite encircling your forearm. Black Hat presses a thumb against one of the healing wounds, causing a sudden twinge of sharp pain to shoot up from the site. You buck as the feeling spirals low, adding to the desperate ache between your legs.

"Fuck..." you murmur, trying to pull away from Black Hat only to find yourself immobile in his grip. You bite your lip and try to look over at Flug to check if he can see you, but you can't move your neck. You try to ignore the cold sweat that prickles fear along your skin. This is only the second time you've been unable to control your body despite having lived most of your adult life possessed. And the first is what encouraged you to contract Latimer in the beginning. The feeling of true possession frightens you - the helplessness, the claustrophobic stillness. Your heart beats erratically in your chest. 

You struggle, trying not to panic, but you can't control anything except your ability to blink, breathe, and move your mouth. It's disorienting, feeling yourself gently saw back and forth over an invisible appendage and being unable to stop it. You swallow down a whimper and shut your eyes, "Why are you doing this?" you breathe. Black Hat simply ignores you, continuing to tease you through your panties, bringing an entirely new level of fucked up to the table as he forces you to surrender to his touch. You can feel Black Hat as he smiles just beneath your jawline, his fingers still rubbing and building that ache inside you.

"Because I can, assistant," he laughs against your skin, "Because I can do whatever I like." He hums, pleased, "Do you remember your pet?"

Your eyes snap open at the mention of Latimer. The last time you saw him, he pinned Black Hat down for hurting you. A creeping sense of dread intermingles with your arousal. Fuck, this is so wrong, but Black Hat keeps touching you. You open your mouth to protest, but, as if on cue, Black Hat slips his fingers underneath your panties and begins stroking you openly, sliding the digits between the dripping crease of your lower lips. You hiss, trying not to moan as the leather of his fingers strokes along your clit.

Black Hat seems unbothered as he continues, "Your pet, well, he offended me during our little talk. Not only did he interrupt me while I was teaching you the detriments of disobeying me, but he was less than professional when I confronted him on his... unbecoming behavior." There's a sort of smug glee in his words that makes you think there's more to what he's saying.

Your stomach drops, or at least tries to, but it's difficult to feel anything other than pleasure as Black Hat works your body into a fever pitch. You feel shame for how your body is reacting to his touch, your sex slick with need even though you're worried about Latimer. You grit your teeth, but you're not sure how much of your reaction is due to Black Hat's touching, your impending orgasm, or your own budding anger. You lick your lips, and try your best to keep your tone level, "I don't know what power you think you have, but I won't let you hurt Latimer."

You almost fall at the suddenness of Black Hat releasing control over your body. You stumble, your arousal dying almost immediately, leaving only a dull throb in its wake. Black Hat laughs loudly in the back of your head, the sound vicious and cruel. 

"Is that worry I hear in your voice, assistant?" He teases, "Do you actually care for that weak creature?"

Latimer isn't your friend. He isn't even nice, but there's no denying that you've built something like camaraderie with the demon. He may be a stuck up asshole who has already damned your soul to an eternity in hell, but he's saved your life more times than you can count. You grit your teeth and try to stay relatively quiet, because Flug, Demencia, and 5.0.5. are still in the lab, "If you touch him, Black Hat..."

Black Hat lets out an amused snort, and you can practically see him rolling his eyes, "Well, that makes things more interesting... finally." Black Hat clicks his tongue before taking in a deep breath. He lets it out with a sigh and a short laugh, "Why don't you let me paint a pretty picture for you, my dear?" Black Hat pauses, probably for dramatic effect, before continuing, "Imagine, your pet is kneeling in front of me. He's bruised, bloodied, his nose crooked and mangled. He can barely see with his eyes so swollen, can barely talk. I took the liberty of cutting out his tongue, you see, he's never used it for anything good, so why keep it at all? Still, he's a demon, so it's not like it won't grow back... But the pain... The look in his eyes when I did it?" Black Hat sighs, low and amused, "Priceless."

 

You look around, horrified, but neither Flug nor anyone else can hear Black Hat. You rush over to the exit of the lab and try to pull the door open, but it's locked. You lean against it, pushing with all your might, but it doesn't move an inch. "What the fuck?!" you growl, teeth grit. You shake the bar of the door, before cursing in frustration.

"He reeks of blood and sweat, my dear. Truly, you should bathe your pets more often," Black Hat muses, "Or, at least keep them out of my sight. I don't appreciate yappy little lap dogs telling me what to do with my toys." Black Hat laughs.

"Just shut the fuck up..." you whine, frowning. You hear Flug call your name from somewhere behind you, but you ignore him in favor of leaning your head against the door, "What else can you possibly want from me? I already work for your stupid fucking company, I gave you my soul, what else-"

Black Hat's chuckle reverberates through your skull, "Oh, my dear, your must be more foolish than I thought to truly believe you offer nothing else." He takes a deep breath which he lets out almost wistfully if not for the dark grumble that follows it, "I will have you my dear, make no mistake. You are mine."

You pull away from the door and kick it, ignoring the throbbing of your toes inside your shoe. "That didn't tell me anything! What the fuck do you want?!"

Flug shouts your name, running up to you and grabbing your shoulder. You wrench away from his grip to pace. Flug looks from you to the door handle and tries it. When it doesn't budge he turns to Demencia and 5.0.5., "It's stuck." The two look at each other before rushing over to Flug to try and help him open it... Well, 5.0.5. does, Demencia just giggles and gnaws at the bar handle.

Black Hat's bemused voice echoes in your ears, "Oh, there's that fire I've been searching for... hmm." he trails off, going quiet for a moment that seems too long to be an innocent pause.

"Black Hat?" You say, "What are you doing?"

His voice is back in an instant, its gravelly, dark quality practically pitch with malice, "What if I told you your pet is bleeding out all over my freshly steamed carpet?"

You freeze mid-step, breath catching in your throat.

Black Hat takes your silence as encouragement to continue. You hear the excitement in his words, the giddy contempt, "What if I told you that I'm watching him, now, his mouth agape and his eyes glossy. What if I told you I was gutting him while I touched you? Watched him writhe in agony just as you writhed against my fingertips in that little lab of yours?"

"You piece of shit..." your voice cracks as you try to swallow against the lump in your throat.

Flug and 5.0.5. bash against the door, but it still doesn't move. Flug runs to the other side of the lab to try that door, but it's stuck all the same. 5.0.5. joins Flug while you walk to the one closest to you, pushing once more before kicking it again and again. "You fucking asshole!" You scream.

"Ah, I wouldn't start with the insults just yet, assistant. He's still breathing."

You stop moving and lean against the door.

Black Hat's mirth is almost palpable, "He... - oh, that's _precious_. I think he's trying to say your name. He seems scared."

You pound your fist against the door, but your anger turns to helplessness just as quickly, the skin along your hands throbbing, "I'm going to kill you."

"And that's the reaction I've been waiting for..." he says, and suddenly the door gives way. You sprint out of the lab, ignoring Flug's happy cry of success as you run up the stairs, nearly tripping over your own feet. Black Hat chuckles, "I'm not sure you can kill me, but you can certainly feel free to try." His voice echoes in your head, "I'll wait here, but do hurry. Your pet is making a mess, and carpet is expensive to replace, my dear."

Your heart is pounding in your ears as you run through the hallway. You're not sure which door is the office, feeling utterly disoriented as you try every door you possibly can until you finally pull open the right one. You practically fling yourself into the room, not thinking anything through, barely registering that Black Hat isn't sitting in his desk chair as you frantically look around.

It's empty.

Suddenly, the door shuts and locks behind you, and before you can turn around, one gloved hand comes up to cover your mouth while another catches one of your wrists on its way to grab his hand. In an instant, both of your arms are pinned behind your back. Black Hat presses his warm cheek against the curve of your neck and inhales deeply, "Fear smells good on you my dear, sweet assistant..." he practically coos, nipping your shoulder when you begin struggling. You rear one of your legs up to kick him in the shin, but just before it makes contact something smooth catches your ankle and wraps around both your legs to pull them together.

You can feel Black Hat's slimy smirk against your skin, "Let's have some real fun, shall we?"


End file.
